


Something More to Say

by MountainRose, synteis



Series: Poly Family Avengers [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal, BDSM Scene, Complicated Relationships, Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Non-Sexual Kink, Polyamory Negotiations, Rimming, Shower Sex, misuse of pastries, polycule
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-05-22 10:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6075288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainRose/pseuds/MountainRose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/synteis/pseuds/synteis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's feelings need to stop interrupting Sunday brunch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to lightshadowversimilitude and szzzt for the beta.

Steve woke up slowly, awareness of his body filtering in gradually. It was _still_ a marvel, waking up without aches in his back, or tightness in his lungs, he almost missed it. He didn’t always feel entirely _there_ , inside this big, precision-made body. He’d gone to sleep aching and sore, pinned into his skin by bite marks and fingerprints, the heady thrum of pleasure and exertion but... The bruises and broken skin had vanished overnight like they’d never been. No morning-after soreness for him.

Mildly disappointed, he opened his eyes to express his displeasure at the ceiling.

“Oh-six hundred hours,” JARVIS gently informed him.

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Steve replied automatically, keeping his voice low. Tony could sleep through a hurricane like this but he couldn’t help but lower his voice anyways.

Not bad for a Sunday, he reminded himself and tried to let some of his disgruntlement fade away. The Avengers had a routine on Sundays, one that he loved, and he didn’t need to be spoiling it with a bad mood. He breathed, and tried to relax the scowl off his face.

He looked down to the weight on his chest, rising and falling with each deep breath that he took. Tony slept so sweetly, his dark, thick lashes resting on relaxed, olive skin. A soft smile spread across Steve’s face without any thought on his part. Most weekends he couldn’t help himself and soon the sketchbook would be out. Drawing Tony in the shop or with the team was a favourite too, but the trust in Tony’s face when he slept like this would have made any artist’s fingers itch to put it on paper.

Tony snuffled into Steve’s shoulder as he wound his arms more tightly around Steve’s waist. Clearly he wasn’t going to be allowed to grab his sketchbook today. But he couldn’t bring himself to mind, content to admire Tony without its help. Not the kind of life or partner he’d imagined as a kid or a soldier on the front except in all the ways he was. Beautiful, capable, fiercely intelligent, and always ready to stand up for the things he believed in, even to Steve.

Tony looked even better in the quiet pre-dawn light than he had last night. Steve traced the line of purpling bruises (just below the collar, Steve had been careful) with his eyes, that warm feeling bubbling up inside him, almost overflowing, the touch of possession giving it a sharp edge.

No scene, not even the roughest play could make Steve feel it in the morning, but Tony would. Tony walked around all day feeling Steve’s body on his. If Steve rubbed his hand on one of Tony’s hickeys down in the shop, he’d turn liquid between his hands and then glare at him, his pants tenting. To know that that was him, that he felt them all day…

Steve felt a slight blush on his cheeks at his own thoughts before reminding himself that he was allowed these sorts of feelings now, that Tony liked it just as much, would tease him with it when he noticed Steve watching. God, it was a miracle the team hadn’t caught them more often than they already had; Steve suspected JARVIS had something to do with their streak of good luck.

He felt himself harden against Tony’s warm thigh at the thought but didn’t feel the need to follow through. There was something absurdly luxurious about enjoying the feeling of a boner in the morning. He could just lie here and appreciate the low hum of arousal and it would be dealt with or go down on its own, didn’t have to be up for reveille or anything like that.

Steve breathed in Tony’s scent and started to run his fingers through his hair, selfishly enjoying Tony’s warmth, secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't wake up easily after a session like that.

He hadn't been sure if Tony would come up last night but he’d crawled in at two, still covered in machine grease. Steve had leaned over to rub a leftover smear off Tony’s cheek, and then they'd been busy together for a little longer. The sheets would need to be washed, but Tony wouldn’t be up until at least ten.

Tony murmured and locked on tighter, apparently guessing Steve’s thoughts. Steve closed his eyes and smiled. It was Sunday and his run with Sam wasn't until seven. JARVIS would let him know if he was needed before then.

\---

Steve woke for a second time, having dozed off in the interim hour. He enjoyed the absolute comfort of the position for a second longer before he sighed and carefully pulled himself out from under the weight and warmth of Tony’s firm body. The air in the bedroom wasn’t cold at least and the floor beneath his feet was carefully heated. Steve indulged in a fond smile down at Tony’s sleeping sprawl like he did every morning, heart warmed by the knowledge that Tony kept the room heated just for him so that he didn’t feel a chill when he got up.

He stretched and did his usual morning warm up while JARVIS helpfully showed him the weather forecast and what was under construction; no detours today. Pulling on his running clothes was quick; JARVIS left him fresh ones on the dumbwaiter on running mornings.

Routine finished, he lingered in the bedroom for a moment, smiling at the image Tony made on the bed. In Steve’s short absence he’d managed to starfish, taking over every inch of their California king. He dropped a kiss on Tony's forehead and received some petulant grumbles in response before Tony’s hands came up to firmly capture his head and pull him down for a deeper kiss, eyes still firmly closed. Steve pressed into Tony’s warm, soft, stubborn mouth, unable to keep his lips from smiling as Tony’s beard rubbed against his skin. A couple of moments later, Tony, finally satisfied with his goodbye, released him without opening his eyes and turned over, falling instantly back to sleep.

 _God, he was the luckiest man on Earth,_ he thought grinning before jogging down to the kitchen.

\---

Sam was already kicking back the last of a bright green smoothie when Steve arrived.

“Had a good night?” teased Sam, tapping on his watch. Steve checked the clock in the kitchen and sure enough, he was two minutes off his usual schedule. He doubted the grin on his face left much to doubt about the reason for his delay.

He shrugged, still grinning and mimed zipping his lips.

Sam gave him a knowing look and gestured around his own lips. Steve reached up and the heat on his skin told him all he needed to know. He put his hand over his mouth and waited a few seconds before taking it away, knowing that the beard burn had vanished.

Sam shook his head fondly and took another sip of the green monstrosity.

Steve raised an eyebrow and had just opened his mouth to get some payback when Sam stopped him with a raised finger and a glare over the glop he was gulping down.

“My body’s a temple and temples don’t maintain themselves. This has got,” Sam started, licking green slime off his upper lip. Pointing at piles of trimmings on his cutting board in turn, he named off a truly awful list of ingredients; “Spinach, kale, collard greens and celery plus blueberries, dates, a banana and half an avocado.”

Steve’s eyebrow climbed further up his face.

“This is real food, unlike your bullshit protein shakes,” Sam said, gauntlet thrown. “You can’t lie to me, I saw your apartment back in D.C, I don’t think you had anything else in your fridge.”

Steve leaned back against the fridge, crossing his arms and meeting Sam’s challenge with a smirk. “Gonna let me get a word in?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. When Sam didn’t budge, he added, “And I somehow still managed to run laps around you.” He made a spinning gesture with one finger. “Besides, you try eating 5,000 calories a day.”

The truth was that gulping down the protein shakes had been like being back on military rations but at least he could by them at his neighbourhood bodega. He’d tried going to the grocery store and promptly walked right out. The fluorescent lights, all that food, the squeaking of the grocery carts and the way voices echoed from over neighboring aisles had been overwhelming. Now he ordered food through JARVIS or went out to the farmer’s market. The crush of people and stalls was much more familiar, and he liked seeing the people who’d grown his food, being able to shake their hand and ask them what was fresh. Bruce had shown him some nice butchers and cheesemongers too. They’d even tell you how to cook it if you asked.

Sam gave a loud slurp and yanked Steve out of his thoughts. He’d nearly finished his smoothie. Steve tried to fall back into the teasing headspace that had always been so easy between him and Sam. So what if he’d faded out for a moment; Sam was one of his people, he was allowed to get lost in his thoughts with him.

"This smoothie’s going to give me the edge today, you watch me,” Sam said casually as he dumped his glass in the sink and gave it a quick wash.

If he’d noticed anything off with Steve he wasn’t mentioning it.

Steve pulled himself off the fridge and threw Sam his water bottle. “You gonna put some money where your mouth is, Wilson?”

Sam caught it with a grin.

“How about we say two loops for me, six for you, first one back to the tower picks up the team tab for next time we go out,” he threw down.

“I’ll book our table at _Daniel_ now then,” said Steve with a grin and they shook on it.

Sam turned and gave Steve a pat on the shoulder. “Now come on old man, quit stalling. Central Park calls.”

\---

Steve sat comfortably on a bench, enjoying the New York sunshine and the blue sky as a breeze brushed through his hair. The smell of grass and damp earth mixed with the metallic tang of city, the acrid smog, the people… Even D.C had smelled wrong. There wasn’t anywhere else like this.

He stirred as he heard Sam’s distinctive gait and grinned to himself before getting up and easily jogging across the last intersection to the foot of Avengers Tower, running backwards for the last few moments so that he could watch Sam race across himself, clutching at his side.

“That time,” Sam gasped, “was close.”

Steve shrugged his shoulders before quirking his lips and pulling out a bag from behind him. “I made a quick stop at Ceci-Cela.”

Steve appreciated the picture Sam’s face made for a moment before throwing over a bottle of water.

Sam caught the bottle easily in spite of his affront, throwing Steve a look that said that he knew he was looking for a reaction and wasn’t going to give it to him. He took a long drink. “That–” he uttered between gulps of water, “Is two and half miles away, Rogers.”

“I’d know considering I just ran there and back,” replied Steve, unrepentant. “They're Natasha’s favorite.”

Sam just shook his head. “No one believes me when I tell them that Captain America’s a troll.”

Steve took a long drink of water from his own bottle (reusable at Bruce’s request, he’d been going to a lot of conferences and charity galas about water recently and Steve thought he had a good point). “Speaking of, I guess you’ll be picking up the next tab. I think Tony said something about bringing us down to Petrossian next time and of course there’s Thor’s rotisserie—”

Sam gave him a shove. “Yeah I get it, you beat me. Now give me one of those,” he said as he reached for the bag.

Steve pulled the brown paper bag out of reach and rattled the it suggestively as he headed to the elevators.

“What do you want from me, Rogers?” Sam cried out, raising his hands in mock hurt. “You can’t just do that and not give me one when I can smell the butter from all the way over here!”

Steve didn’t say a word, just stepped inside the waiting elevator and gave the bag a toss, grabbing it from the air just inches from Sam’s hands.

“Ohoh, oh no man, it is _on.”_

Steve settled his shoulders; this was going to be fun.

“You trying to rack up a losing streak?” Steve challenged him, as the elevator doors closed.

\---

They fell out of the elevator with a clamor, Sam running with the bag, juggling it in one hand and working his hand into it with the other, and Steve in careful pursuit. Sam managed to pop a pain au chocolat into his mouth, but Steve had bigger plans. The bottleneck would be the kitchen door, and since Natasha should still be in there…

Right on schedule, Sam came to an abrupt stop. Steve held out a leg to brake, gently bumping into Sam. Just as planned, the combination loosened Sam’s grip on the bag. Without breaking his stride, Steve gained possession, and cheerfully set the bag on the table.

Natasha gave them both a look; Sam was still flushed and sweaty from the run with a pain au chocolat hanging out of his mouth while Steve had barely broken a sweat. Steve gave her a small salute while Sam hastily pulled the steaming croissant out of his mouth. He tried to brush the flakes of pastry off his shirt but with a hand already _that_ covered in crumbs, he was only going to make it worse. They’d be an interesting study to paint, him and Sam, Steve would bet. Fun, like something in a comic.

“Morning, Natasha,” Sam said, making a brave attempt at composure. The pain au chocolate in his hand and the crumbs down his front rather ruined the effect.

Steve hid a grin and peeked over at Natasha. She was perched on one of the bar stools, wrapped up in a thin shrug, pale skin slipping out from underneath. Steve didn’t suppose he could blame Sam for looking a bit pink in the cheeks.

“Bucky still in bed?” Steve asked absently, pulling the unmolested pastry boxes out of the bag. The one Sam had attacked looked a little the worse for wear, but he’d just put those out on a plate.

Natasha gave a small smile, half hidden by her mug of tea. “I think I wore James out last night.”

A surge of possession and jealousy tingled in his gut and Steve took a few deep breaths to calm down, his therapist would be proud. He shouldn't have mentioned Bucky. What Bucky did on his own time was his business, Steve reminded himself firmly. Just to be safe he repeated the thought a few times in his head while he handed the last box over to Sam and tried to keep his smile from sliding right off his face. He wasn't going to mess up a lovely morning with this, not today. He was having a nice time, he had good friends, he was glad Buck was with someone he trusted. Whatever their relationship had been before, Buck had made his feelings clear and Steve was going to respect them.

“I’m off to shower. There’s some almond croissants and a whole wheat one for Bruce, plus the usual butter and chocolate,” Steve said, voice purposefully light.

He was envious too, which he had no damn right to be. He’d had lots of experience with rejection back when he’d been little (but not from Buck, _with you to the end of the line_ , no matter how many girls he’d taken out, the charmer), and he’d doled out his fair share in D.C. Was only fair, really.

“Oh, and Sam,” Steve added, straightfaced. “You’ve got chocolate on your lip.” If he was faking it a bit more than usual, well so be it.

Sam wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, easily cleaning off the smudge of chocolate. Steve nodded to indicate his success before turning away, a smile twitching at his lips despite his thoughts. No need to mention the much larger smear of chocolate still clinging to Sam’s other cheek.

Natasha turned on Sam and the box in his hand and Steve gratefully escaped to the shower.

\---

The image of Sam’s chocolate-covered face managed to keep his spirits up for most of the journey to his rooms, but he could feel thoughts about Bucky pushing at the image, battering it, like a flooding river against a dam. How the fuck had everything gone FUBAR when he’d been having such a good day? He should have known it wouldn’t last.

He roughly stripped off his clothing and stood, naked with his face towards the showerhead, water beating on his eyelids, just water. It was searing hot on his face and it made it hard to breathe, but he needed it that way. Against his will, the dam broke and his mind turned back to being haunted by Bucky.

—Bucky, who wouldn't touch him anymore, who was with Natasha. Who’d asked to be called James now. (A corner of his brain whispered that he didn’t seem to mind when Tony slipped.)

That wasn’t fair, he reprimanded himself firmly. His hands ran through his hair on automatic, the strands squeaking unpleasantly under his fingers, too clean, the modern shampoo stripping off all the oil. Not that it made a difference, this too clean hair, because two washes in, Steve still felt foul. He still had to clasp his hands together to stop them from trying for a third time.

It wasn't like he was trying to take Bucky from Natasha. He didn’t care about the sex (even if Bucky still pushed all of his buttons), it was the reluctance in Bucky’s every movement and word the moment Steve stepped into a room. They’d been many things together but never awkward. Steve had always known where he’d stood with Buck, Natasha’s presence in Bucky’s life shouldn’t have changed that, Tony hadn’t changed how he’d felt about Bucky. He could _share_ him with her, Bucky didn't have to... To choose.

Steve scrubbed a bit harder at his back, watching the suds form under his hands.

Maybe he did; maybe he couldn’t handle the past he’d had with Steve while he was building something new with Natasha (even while _she_ juggled all her various romantic and sexual relationships). But Bucky wasn’t Natasha.

Steve took a breath. He needed to get a grip. It was Sunday and, barring any surprise super-villains, they all had the day off. Steve treasured days like this and he knew the rest of the team did too. He couldn’t have these stupid feelings coming in and ruining it.

Steve took another and held it. There was no point getting upset about the fact that he was upset. Time for evasive action. He started scrubbing himself with one of Tony’s fancy salt rubs, letting the familiar smell of lime, salt and coconut soothe him. The mild sting would help him to recenter. Tony’d tease him to hell and back if he found out that Steve had nicked it, but Steve liked it, smelling like Tony. He tried to bring his mind back to the space it had been after his run, when all his thoughts had been quiet, this kind most of all. He managed to lose himself in the sensation for a while, brain as turned off as he could make it.

Finished, he started washing off the scrub, doing a double rinse to get to all the nooks and crannies. He hadn’t been carefully the first time and he’d regretted it when the crystals he’d forgotten under his arm had rubbed against each other every time he’d swung his arm.

He breathed again, as slow and deep as he could make it.

God, even in his own head he couldn’t get himself sorted. He honestly didn’t mind that Bucky was with someone who had other partners, it had made sense what Darcy had said about jealousy not being a ‘thing everyone does’. If Bucky... James felt secure enough to make it work, that was the important thing. He understood Darce’s bit about it being a relief to not have the pressure of making someone 100% happy all by yourself. Pepper was still a huge part of Tony's life, even if it wasn't romantic anymore, and Steve couldn't say he'd have minded if it was. Steve could never feel threatened by _Pepper_. But for himself… Well if he had fantasies about Tony and Bucky in his bed together, they could stay in his head where they belonged.

He snorted at himself and shook the water off his face, a self-deprecating smile pulling at his lips. Who knew what Natasha thought about his stupid crush. Steve had to be obvious to her, there was no way she didn't _know_ he was gut-clenchingly envious of the way James leaned into her when Bucky wouldn't touch him beyond the sparring mat.

Still, Bucky’d made his feelings clear and he’d respect them–James, he supposed, he should get used to calling him James if that’s what he wanted from Steve.

Steve rubbed absentmindedly at his stubble with the left over conditioner.

Maybe if that–sparring, violence–if that was what Buck was ‘comfortable with’ then he could go with that. Wasn't that what you were supposed to do? ‘Accommodation’ and ‘choice agency’ and the rest of the fucking _word spaghetti_ —

He dropped his razor with a clatter and cursed out loud as he felt a drop of blood well up on his skin.

“Sorry... Damn,” he said to the plug hole.

This whole not getting upset thing was going real good, he thought to himself sarcastically.

He gave up on shaving; no one minded his soft fuzz anyway, and the cut would be healed by the time he got downstairs. He'd even up in the mirror, no one would care.

No one would care.

His eyes burnt and his heart surged in his mouth but he couldn't fucking cry over that, what the hell? He shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes; James didn't remember teaching him to shave. That was fine, whatever. He remembered Sarah Rogers, he remembered his sister, couldn't that be enough for him? He told himself ruthlessly not to be so _selfish_ , couldn't that be _enough?_

No one else had a problem; even James and Tony got along. Steve was grateful for what he had, really he was. He had Bucky back and he was whole-heartedly, stupidly in love with Tony. That he wanted more than that was just stupid, was what it was. Ungrateful.

Crying about it sure as hell wasn’t going to fix anything, no more than turning it over and over in his mind would. He’d just have to put those feelings out of his thoughts. The important thing was the team, their mission. Not ruining anyone’s day.

A few deep breaths and a rough once-over with the towel, and he had a lid on it, no really, he did.

He took another breath and pulled a fresh towel off the rail, trying to focus on the softness of the cotton. They were Egyptian and totally oversized, he could have wrapped them around himself three times before the serum, and as it was they still covered him completely, kept warm by the racks, like a giant hug. An extravagance, courtesy of Tony, who knew how much he liked them but also that Steve would never have been able to justify the purchase himself. But, when it was a gift from Tony, when it was proof of all the little things he noticed, all the little ways he showed he cared, well, Steve could never refuse them. Could seldom refuse Tony anything, especially not when he enjoyed giving the gifts so much. And how much Steve enjoyed receiving them.

He stared himself down in the mirror, then fished out the beard trimmer.

Maybe there would be some pastries left.

...a man could dream while shaving, right? That sounded weird enough to be modern.

Still, he held onto the thought, buoyed by the delight the thought of those croissants brought, the smile he hoped would be on Natasha’s face.

Beard done, he carefully pulled the Brylcream through his hair, looking away from the new packaging (it hadn’t been changed since the sixties but even fifty years wasn't enough to make it familiar). His hair didn’t sit quite as well as when it had been longer, but Natasha had said that the shorter hair made him look like less of a throwback, and would help him integrate into contemporary society. What did he know? Most days he could even remember why that was important.

He carefully folded the two towels back over the heated racks, unable to justify sending them off to laundry and headed back into his bedroom. He sorted through the closet before pulling out his suit.

Carefully he put on his Sunday best, checking himself, and the impromptu beard, in the mirror. The suit was nicer than anything he’d had as a boy; the only thing that had stayed the same was the bright polish of his shoes.

No Tony in his bed, but at least it meant that he didn’t have to wake him to strip the bed, tucked up in his own (rather dirtier) bed in the penthouse. Steve reminded himself sternly that he didn’t want to wake Tony up just so that he could lay him on clear sheets. For one thing, Tony would never let him forget it and besides, Tony didn’t sleep enough for it to be interrupted for Steve’s compulsion.

With the sheets in the laundry, Steve gave himself one last look over, straightening his tie.

James wouldn’t be joining him at Mass, for all that it was the only remnant of their time, only tenuously maintained. He’d never been much of a church goer before, and now, who knew what his belief systems were. Natasha maybe. Whatever they were, they didn’t include Latin Mass.

Steve collected his thoughts and tucked the feelings away once more, locking it firmly this time. He would stop this nonsense of mooning over B–over James and start calling him by the name he’d been asked to call him. He took a deep breath and composed himself before heading down to the kitchen, mind made up. There would be croissants and they would be delicious and Natasha would be pleased that he’d thought of her on his run.

Sam had already gone to shower which left Natasha on her own, daintily licking sugar off her fingertips. She had a tiny smile on her face, just as Steve had imagined. His heart swelled and his mind rose above the toxic cesspool his thoughts had become. She didn’t smile much and as her friend, Steve treasured every one of them.

Still, he knew better than to comment so he simply passed her a nod before locking on to the paper box that hadn’t been manhandled by Sam and sifting through it. Double delight, they weren’t all gone yet. Papery pastry and powdered sugar covered his hand before he felt the sharp edges he was looking for and pulled out his prize. He carefully placed the almond croissant on a plate and dusted off his hands over the sink. The croissant was glossy in the morning sunlight, topped in little slivers of ivory almond flakes. He let himself appreciate its artistry for a moment before he gave in to his hunger and began to carefully nibble at it, mindful of the flakes of pastry. The crisp, buttery pastry crunched, then melted on his tongue, giving at the slightest pressure, while rich almond paste oozed into his mouth with every bite, still warm from the oven.

Steve felt eyes on him and looked up, unsurprised to see Natasha studying him between sips of her tea. She raised a questioning eyebrow.

He shrugged at her and looked away, not wanting her scrutiny right now, catching the crumbs at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. He worked to focus on the taste of almond paste and butter in his mouth, the sun on his face, the table underneath his hands, trying to keep his thoughts quiet, his mind present on the here and now.

—Suddenly he was certain that she could see every toxic thought that had passed through his head during the shower. He didn’t know what she was getting on his case about staring at him like that, accusing him with that eyebrow-- He was doing the right thing, being happy for B-James’s happiness, being thankful for what he had, putting the team first.

—Enjoying his breakfast a little too much maybe, he thought, on a forcibly lighter note, as he licked the last of the almond paste off his thumb. That was probably it. Just a bit too much enjoyment of his breakfast. Nothing worse than that. And, if Natasha was uncomfortable over it she’d speak up. Steve liked that about her.

She gave him a once over, and then a look with something like understanding before leaning back in her seat.

Steve shrugged again and took his plate to the sink, mind as blank as he could make it. A quick scrub (nothing like the hard blocks of his old life) and he set it up to dry. He turned to leave, only to find Natasha in his way.

“You’ve got a crumb,” she said before bringing a hand up to his torso and brushing it away. They lingered in each other’s space, Natasha's fingertips soft on his tie.

Steve looked down at her small, unassuming hands, so close to his neck and breathed, bowing his head. She carefully straightened his tie and the care of it almost made Steve breakdown in front of her, right then and there, needing to confess.

He breathed again, in sync with her own breath, mind lighter.

“Thank you.”

Natasha stepped back, checking him over before coming back to even out his lapels.“Can’t have you looking anything other than your best, Cap.”

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint the American people,” Steve replied deadpan, feeling more like his usual self as their dynamic snapped back to normal. “I’ll see you after Mass,” he finished with half a smile and she gave his shoulder a squeeze in response.

With that, he turned and walked out the door, suddenly glad for the walk to Broadway and 7th and the chance to have his thoughts clear out.

\---

“I am _onto you!_ You terror, you've got to get them talking!” Pepper hissed in Natasha's ear. A pastry appeared between her mouth and Nat's head, which she took graciously. And promptly tore in half to spread butter on the still-hot inside layers.

“There's no rushing boys, _lisichka_. James’ll come ‘round.”

“Steve is _pining,”_ Pepper complained. _“_ Tony's noticed, and thinks it’s his fault, and then I have to deal with _him_ moping. Sam looks ready to send them all to therapy and wash his hands clean. Tell me you have a plan, a _today_ one.”

Natasha gave her a look. Okay, so maybe it was a bit of a silly question because Natasha always had a plan. Several, in fact, most of the time, each with contingency options. The planner in Pepper responded very positively to that side of Natasha.

“Do you want the one that ends in bloody noses and grins, or tears and feelings?” asked Natasha, taking pity on her.

It was a genuine dilemma. The first option was obvious; the boys sparred plenty, Tony watched and drooled, Clint heckled, and Sam despaired of supersoldiers, etcetc.

Violence wasn’t something that Pepper was especially interested in. Seeing athletic men wrestling with each other did get old eventually. “Tears. I will hold the Kleenex, but God help me, it's time _someone_ talked about this whole thing out loud.”

Natasha shrugged and Pepper sighed irritably. Natasha wasn’t much better sometimes, but at least she was direct about what she did and didn’t want, even if it was with her body and not her words. She’d made herself very clear last time...

Pepper took a deep breath, trying to ignore the heat that was warming between her knees and looked away from Natasha. It didn’t help that the only clothes under her shrug were a pair of boxer briefs and a tank top; coordinated, because Pepper had told her yesterday that she was coming over and Natasha knew her weaknesses well. By her second breath, she felt more settled and turned to Sam as he ambled in looking supremely relaxed.

“Thanks for the croissant,” she told him, happy to change the topic.

“You’ve got to thank Steve for those,” Sam informed her dryly. “Cap ran all the way down to Ceci’s during our run just so he could get my hopes up.”

“Then race him with your wings on, hotshot,” threw in Natasha. “Problem solved. Don't leave your superpower at home in a race against a supersoldier.”

“I _gave_ him a handicap!” rebutted Sam.

Pepper watched them go back and forth, allowing herself to slouch into her chair just a bit. She had to give the team credit, she’d have bet against them ever being halfway functional once, but they were, and the Tower had a nice atmosphere these days. Even when Steve and Bucky were a mess and Tony wasn’t much better.

She set her phone facedown on the counter, focusing on the buttery croissant. If there was anything really important JARVIS would send it through, and Rhodey had already told her that he’d be in closed door meetings all day so nothing to look forward to on that side. But he was coming to the party Tony was throwing tomorrow so that was something. Pepper hummed happily at the thought.

Natasha got up, dropping a kiss on Pepper’s lips on her way past, and pulled out a tin of tea with one hand and the tea strainer with the other. She was worth watching. Making Bruce's tea; it was more complicated than putting a teabag in a mug and she moved so smoothly, it was dance-like.

Tin on the counter, she filled up the glass kettle, setting it to heat while she filled the teapot with water from the hot tap. The matching mugs came out next, delicate clinks on the marble on a even beat, moving to a silent rhythm. She checked the teapot with her palm, waiting one-two-three for the porcelain to heat, then poured the cooling water away. Cups lined up, tea strainer over the first, and she measured out the leaves with a sure two beat tip of the tin. Just when the kettle came to the boil.

Pepper was happy to watch in silence, her breathing only occasionally interrupted by a bite of croissant or a sip of cappuccino.

Natasha had finished steeping the tea and was just pouring it when Bruce came in, hair mussed and groggy. Natasha pressed the tea into his hand on her way back to her perch and gifted him with one of her quiet smiles. Pepper looked away with a private smile. Some things were better left intimate, especially when relationships overlapped and entwined with the Gordian knot level complexity that Natasha seemed to prefer.

\---

Steve got back to the kitchen to the smell of hot water on herbs. Natasha called it tea, but it was a damn lie, and she would look in horror if someone tried to put milk in it, the way tea should be drunk. Steve had changed back into his usual clothes, sorry to leave the comforting smell of incense behind in the closet with his suit.

Bruce was at the left hand stove, pouring coconut milk over something that smelled of spices, and Steve breathed it in deep. He could cook well enough, but Bruce’s cooking made him remember when he and Bucky had dreamed about the world on the other side of the ocean as boys, when Steve had paged through atlases in the library and drawn their adventures into his sketchbooks.

He dragged his eyes away from the food and did a brief headcount.

“Hello, Ms. Potts,” said Steve as he set his eyes on her, genuinely pleased, “I didn’t know that you were stopping by today. What can I get you?”

Pepper smiled at him. “JARVIS keeps my favourite granola and yoghurt stocked.”

“Any fruit you can’t eat?” Steve inquired as he went over to the stand of fruit. “I'm sure someone mentioned something... “

“Strawberries. But after last time, Tony gave JARVIS strict orders not to let any strawberries into the tower. Otherwise, I’m flexible.”

Natasha chuckled pointedly and Pepper gave her a look.

Steve ignored Natasha’s flirting with long practice. “Not what I asked,” he ribbed, head in the pantry while he felt up the cantaloupe he'd had his eye on; still not quite ripe.

“Surprise me,” she replied, her voice light and amused. He flashed a smile over his shoulder at her.

Surprise, huh. He pulled out a few large pomegranates, some mangoes, and a pineapple for the granola and set out the apples and pears on the table for the team to help themselves to.

He filled a bowl with water, and then started to deseed the pomegranates into it. Watching the rubies spill from his hand into the clear water was almost meditative. It was fiddly work, making sure that none of the white rind slipped into the bowl, but soon they were rinsed and draining, a bounty of fruit that he’d never seen until after the ice, even growing up in New York City.

He gave the people at the table another look, pleased to see his team relaxed and chatting.

He turned back to his knife and it was on to cutting the pineapple the way he’d seen on YouTube (you could learn so much online now, didn’t have to both anyone by asking for help, it was wonderful) so that all the spikes could be cut out without pricking oneself. He popped one cube into his mouth, allowing himself the moment of indulgence. The bright, sweet fruit filled his mouth with juice, the sourness getting into his cheeks, better than the slices he’d once had on leave, soaked in syrup and stored in their tins for months.

It was hard to imagine that, even though it was November, half a world away these fruits were in season. Before, an orange had been a gift in and of itself and now Bruce was feeding a whole bag of them into Tony’s juicer. It seemed excessive, even though he knew it was the usual these days, to ship all these fruits from so far away. Bruce had explained that it was a problem, all the pollution it caused, but Steve remembered being forced to eat sauerkraut as a child, before Vitamin C tablets had entered production and couldn’t help but enjoy the sweet, tropical fruits. Besides, it was Sunday.

Next, there was the mango to deseed and cube. He loved the moment when the skin popped inside out, it looked ridiculous and delicious with the juice dribbling down between the cubes. Steve couldn’t never quite stop himself from licking the juice of his fingers.

At the table Natasha and Pepper were discussing their recent outing to the ballet and he let the conversation at the table flow over him, losing himself to the rhythm of the knife and the knowledge that JARVIS wouldn’t let anyone in until he had three piles of fruit ready and a nearly-complete complement of Avengers behind him.

“Granola’s up,” he said several minutes later and a round of enthusiastic yeses quickly followed. They all had ravenous appetites so he set out enough glasses for the entire team before he started layering granola, and yoghurt, and fruit into the tall glasses. He set them onto the table and grabbed one for himself and a second for Tony before setting a pot of water boiling and starting on the potatoes. Thor hadn’t stayed the night at the Tower but he always joined them for Sunday breakfast while he was on planet and it was best to be ready when he arrived.

Peeling potatoes was an old and reassuring task. Tuber in hand, butt resting against the edge countertop, he happily watched the team go quiet as they demolished their food, enjoying the smiles and their relaxed shoulders. Too soon he had the whole pound of naked potatoes soaking, he’d always been a quick peeler, and had to turn away from the team to start cutting them into cubes. Even when he’d been stuck in bed he could manage to peel potatoes. They could be cooked in a minute in a microwave nowadays but Steve liked it better this way; they stayed moist, and they could be salted more easily. He finished cutting them into cubes and poured them straight into the boiling water, using the flexible cutting mat the prefered. He appreciated the efficiency of the mat —it had special fold lines to make it into a scoop. That task done, he started on his own granola while the water came back to the boil, hip propped against the counter, gaze back on his team.

At the table, the granola had already been largely demolished and Pepper was toasting slices of Natasha’ favourite rye bread, jam already set out. Meanwhile, Natasha’s quick knifework was making short work of the fruit he’d set out. Just then the toaster dinged and Pepper carried over the plate, exchanging it for some of Natasha’s fruit, which she ate with obvious pleasure. A trickle of juice ran down her chin and Natasha’s thumb captured it, the quick lick she gave it making Pepper’s eyes darken even as her pearly laughter filled the room. If Steve had his way, every breakfast would be like this.

On cue, he heard the water come back to boil and he turned his attention back to the food. Preparing meals for the Avengers required a complex tactical plan no matter the meal, and Steve enjoyed being able to use his skills in tactics for something other than fighting. Planning the menu was always the most challenging component, though given the volumes of food that they went through procuring and cooking it all wasn’t a slouch either.

For today, in addition to the potatoes there would be waffles, eggs florentine, cobb salad; the granola was nutritious and filling enough for the civilian baseline humans but it wouldn't put a dent in Natasha’s or Clint's appetites, and didn't keep Thor occupied for more than a minute or two. The amount of food that passed through Tony’s kitchen every day made Steve’s heart beat the way it had before the serum when he thought about it too much. But he wasn’t going to think about that today, he had a team to feed. With barely a moment’s pause, he started cutting into his plums. If he happened to look at _his_ cupboard for a moment while he did, JARVIS had shown him some articles that said that that was okay. A lot of people had stocked up after the war. Was only sensible, really.

Steve pulled down some of his sugar, drawn from a reassuringly large container (there were two more, each a good 10L in his cupboard), some allspice and cinnamon and sprinkled them over his plums, carefully throwing them together with some lemon. Sarah Rogers hadn’t had much time for teaspoons and neither had his Commandos.

Sam interrupted his thoughts with a large warm hand on his shoulder and a cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” Steve said with a smile, and a few lines of tension relaxed in his tight shoulders as the bitter smell filled his nose, the warmth soaking through his hands.

Sam shook his head, brow scrunched. “I don’t know how you can drink that stuff, man. It could eat through asphalt.”

Steve raised one eyebrow. “Not my fault that your puny Air Force tastebuds can’t handle the real deal,” he said, gesturing idly with his knife and pulling over the tomatoes.

“Not my fault that the dirt that they served you back then ruined yours,” Sam replied, eyeing his one-handed knife work. Tony kept the kitchen knives _really sharp_.

Steve took a measured sip of his black coffee with the other hand, then put it down to hold his halved tomatoes in place. “Says the man whose favourite coffee is mostly syrup,” he said deadpan.

“Starbucks is part of the America that you’ve sworn to defend,” retorted Sam. “And I’ve seen how much cream you can put in that stuff.”

“Cream beats syrup any day,” ribbed Steve. “In nutrition and taste.”

On cue, a bottle of cream came flying from Natasha’s direction. Steve caught it with his left hand, making sure not to flinch with the one holding the knife. There were only so many times a knife could take being stabbed into a chopping board. A long pour of the cream and another sip, and Steve was a happy man; no matter what how much he teased Sam about the amount of stuff he liked in coffee, he did like his own to come with calories.

Steve shot Nat an eyebrow and got a shrug in response, so he capped the cream and threw it back. Natasha liked cream in her coffee best too.

His mind back to breakfast, he glanced along the counter. Bruce had got out some eggs and scooped some of the part-cooked potatoes out of the pot. He’d be making a Spanish tortilla, then. The coconut rice he'd been working on before was on the table, already under siege.

Steve went back to his salad fixings, and trained his eye on Sam. “You’re on waffle batter, Wilson, hop to it.”

Sam shook his head, his eyes still on the cream. “You do this stuff just to make the rest of us look bad, dontcha.”

“Don’t need any help with that,” ribbed Steve, head down as he diced through his tomatoes. “And no drinking straight from the carton,” he said, just as Sam opened the counter.

“What a man does in his own house is his own business,” Sam shot back as he started to take the ingredients out of the fridge. “They’re gonna be apple whole-wheat,” Sam informed them as he measured out milk. “The senior citizens amongst us need to watch their hearts,” he added teasingly.

Steve raised an eyebrow at Sam as he carefully added a chunk of butter to his pan, pointedly taking a sip of his creamy thick coffee. “Forgetting something?”

Sam looked at him with suspicion, surprised that Steve had gone off script before it clicked. “Aww, shit,” he said, knowing that he’d lost this round. “Go on, where's Tony’s gluten-free stuff?”

“Top cupboard, on the left,” Steve said, smiling smugly.

\---

James followed the sound of low voices and smell of food to the kitchen with an easy swagger; there was no rush when Steve was cooking, he knew how to make sure everyone got enough food. Admittedly, a pain in the ass when you were on your last chocolate ration and these bozos had traded theirs for-- aww damn.

He shook off the tail end of the memory. No good chasing the ones that didn't finish their own damn sentences and it was hard not to be in a good mood after a night like that with a woman like Natasha.

He entered the kitchen, noting Steve and Bruce and the stoves, Sam at one of the counters. Pepper and Natasha sat at the island, food already set out in front of them.

He joined them, coming up behind Natasha and leaning over the back of her chair. “С добрым утром, Наташа,” he whispered. _Good morning, Natasha._

She turned and pulled him in by his shirt collar to give him a long kiss. He did the right thing and relaxed, closed his eyes (you're safe here, don’t gotta keep watch) for her, letting her demanding lips push into his. He groaned as her tongue invaded his mouth; her mouth, now. Flag planted, entrenched in his head, marks left on his body, yeah.

She released him. “доброе, Яша.” _Morning, Yasha._

James stepped away, soft smile on his lips and sat down next to her. It didn’t hurt, exactly, but he wiggled a bit anyways, caught in the memories of last night. When he came to he found Steve staring at him, a strange (familiar) expression on his face (“Why’d go out with all those gals, Bucky?”). James looked away first. He wasn’t ashamed, not for Natasha, not for what he vaguely remembered doing back then, but Steve had the worst hurt face, could stir up guilt like nothing else.

“Do you want some hot chocolate, Buc-James?” Steve asked, sounding determined as ever. And damn him, that was his favourite (always had been even though he’d say coffee every time). Stevie used to make it for him as a treat.

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” managed James. Steve brought over a cup (already prepared) and James tried to ignore the feelings that it provoked. He took a sip, the thick taste of real chocolate and proper milk filling his mouth. His eyelids fluttered for a moment, giving in to his enjoyment (he was supposed to stop and enjoy things at least once a day, had a journal to write them down in and everything).

That punk knew him better than he knew himself. No use getting worked up over that, though. It wasn’t like he didn’t know all of Steve’s tells back. Well most of them, like a sense in the back of his head, like he could feel Bucky peering out from back there, whispering all of Steve’s secrets into his ears.

It had been tempting when he’d first come to to listen to him, but Bucky forgot things too. Sometimes Bucky wanted them to shake and cry. James had a better handle on the past, was willing to take advantage of the skills that life had given him, no matter how much Steve wanted Bucky back. It wouldn’t be fair to get Steve’s hopes up, not when they both still had feelings for each other, not when Bucky wouldn’t be able to cope. Natasha understood that he wasn’t all there, that calling him Bucky would be dishonest.

Being caught up in his thoughts wasn’t enough to miss Sam walking behind him, though. His lifetimes of training prevented that. He turned his attention to the food, eager to dig in (happy for the distraction). He’d been able to smell it the moment the elevator had opened; coconut rice, potatoes, mango and Steve's fancy plums. His mouth was watering and no one had even put out waffles yet.

He grabbed some dainty fruit, granola and yoghurt thing to start with; grains and nuts were a good source of— deliciousness and texture (selenium, fatty acids, fiber, iron, B12) shut _up._

Bruce and Steve were still cooking up a storm and _there_ were the waffles to go with Steve’s plums. Good job Sam.

He dug his spoon into the granola and twisted it to get a good mix of yellow and white and brown (all the food groups, except pizza, hah) and tilted the glass to get a decent sized mouthful.

“James, you are not a snake,” gently rebuked Natasha.

He snorted and started chewing, taking a more modest mouthful this time. The bright taste of tropical fruit filled his mouth, all of his new favourites and no ‘associative conditioning’ because fuck you, Hydra. He had vague memories of bright citrus as a treat as a boy and then later in Russia. He didn’t like oranges anymore but mango and pineapple… yeah. They had merit. Sweet and bright.

“Good luck with that,” Steve said dryly as he fried bacon slices in the pan. James couldn’t help but look at them assessingly, his granola already finished and his mug of hot chocolate empty. “Not even Sister Evangelina managed to stop him from bolting down his food the moment it was in front of him.”

James shrugged. So he enjoyed his food. Who wouldn’t, with Steve’s cooking? Since it looked like Steve had plans for the bacon, he helped himself to a bowl of coconut rice (sweet and fatty, spices for…). Delicious. Delicious coconut rice.

“I think I’ll choose to take that as a compliment,” Bruce interrupted dryly, looking at James. James went over his memories of the last few moments, he’d been eating, appreciative, and then there’d been a noise out of his mouth— ah, that _noise_ , it tended to happen when Natasha— eh... Heh.

Natasha gave him a look that suggested that more creative methods than Sister Evangelina had ever attempted might be employed if he didn't straighten up his act. After that, James did his best to chew each mouthful of rice. Without the _noise._

Steve went back to his cooking with red ears. _Why red, Stevie? Ya see something you like?_ James pushed the thought down. ‘No flirting!’ he hissed at that corner of his mind.

“It is lovely, Bruce,” Pepper said with a smile; always so honest, hmph. “I’m jealous that I’m not around more often, I hear that you do dinner too.”

Bruce ducked his head.

“Mhmm,” said Natasha with a knowing look. “We’re lucky to have him.”

At her praise, Bruce’s skin darkened and he turned back towards the stove though with his tortilla in the oven, James didn’t think he actually had fuck all to do.

With the table’s attention on Bruce, James watched Steve out of the corner of his eye as he quickly massacred vegetables with his knife and felt a confused mix of ‘Steve, no, you are gonna cut yourself’ and threat assessment. Course, he was Captain America now, Mr. Six-foot and Mighty don't gotta worry about cutting himself, no sir.

At the other stove, Bruce pulled a massively fluffed up tortilla out of the oven and turned it over onto a plate, exposing the golden underside and making it sink to something like a reasonable size. James looked on with interest as Bruce carried it over, handing the knife to Natasha. She gifted Bruce with a smile before she efficiently cut the tortilla into slices dripping with melted cheese and filled with potatoes, onions and chorizo. James reached forward to grab a slice only to find his fingers swatted away by Steve’s spatula.

“Ladies first,” Steve said with that stupid face of his. It wouldn’t have melted butter and Sarah Rogers would have given him his own tap with a spatula at the sight of it. James grumbled as first Pepper and then Natasha took a slice. Just for the sake of it he waited until even Steve had a piece before he took his own which got him another stupid look from Steve.

“Speaking of, how’d you ladies do at the auction?” Sam asked Pepper and Nat. What auction? Natasha did not clear this mission with the asse-- damn. James, _James,_ scraped the last of his egg up with more force than is strictly necessary.

Apparently it was an art show, he stopped listening when Picasso came up.

He sneaked another glance at Steve, instead; he’d polished off his tortilla and was whisking up some fancy sauce over a double boiler, arm muscles flexing with each damn stroke. Steve sure was an eyeful, but then he always had been, even when the girls couldn’t see it. Steve was like the sun and James couldn’t help following him like a field of sunflowers. Staying away would have been easier but them’s the breaks.

Besides, James could appreciate what a little shit he was (always had been).

Case in point; Steve and Sam traded jabs with each other at the counter, cheerfully jostling each other, Steve’s shoulders straining with the effort not to laugh as Sam went on about the morning’s defeat. Where were these mysterious pastries? There was an empty box on the table and a plate suspiciously covered in powdered sugar; _travesty._

They had a good thing going, Steve and Sam. Loose and easy banter that could’a come straight out of the slagged up bits of James’ brain. It hurt a bit to see Stevie getting friends who knew him so well, friends who had inside jokes that James knew nothing about. But it was better for Steve this way. The shrink had called them codependent, how they'd been before the war, each other’s everything. Wasn’t sustainable, wasn’t safe, he couldn’t be responsible for so much of Stevie’s happiness when he had no idea how to be responsible of his own. He couldn’t hurt him like he had on the bridge, the look on his face when James had forgotten who he was... He'd nearly killed him. Fuck his bullets and his arm; that damn _look_ was what’d do it.

Natasha gave him a little tap and he came back to himself. Shit. He hadn't broken his fork, but the arm was whirring. Lucky break that it was her sitting close enough to notice. He had designated times when he dug up the past, people who were trained, who supervised him. Not here, not now.

He fell back on his food, leaning a little closer into her space, taking up a little less of his own. No more thoughts about Steve, not even when he could see him sneaking glances towards him, questions and longing in every movement, that little blush high up on his cheeks that deepened each time Bucky settled his ass into his chair.

Steve looked away and started putting together the centre piece of brunch with Bruce’s help, stacking toasted english muffins with first bacon and then spinach, topping them with a shiny poached egg and then finishing them off with a big spoonful of the thick yellow sauce—

(Hollandaise, informed a dark corner of his brain and who the fuck had thought he’d need to know that for a mission? What sort of mission had knowledge of hollandaise sauce as a fucking requirement? They’d been an assassin not a fucking chef,)

—while Sam pulled a large stack of waffles from where they’d been staying warm in the oven. He put them in reach of Steve’s spiced plums and, consequently, also in reach of Natasha, who made a start. James got up to grab the cobb salad from the counter at Steve's gesture (like they were some fancy restaurant) and the red wine vinaigrette that Steve had made.

As James brought them back to the table, Tony came down into the kitchen. _Damn_ , he was something to look at in the mornings, dressed in worn jeans and a faded t-shirt (James bet it would be soft to the touch if he pulled him close with it). He walked slow, eyes heavy.

Just then, Steve turned toward Tony, a broad smile breaking through his face.

“Hey, Tony,” he said all soft and gentle and warm. “I’ve got something for you.”

Tony’s head turned towards Steve, eyes sharpening when he caught sight of a mug in his hand, still steaming, and picked up speed. Damn, how did Steve do it?

Tony wrapped one hand around the mug, leaning heavily against Steve and downed it while Steve looked happily down at him. Every few glugs Tony made this little moan and squeezed himself tighter to Steve's abs.

James was glad for the island because how could anyone’s pants not get tight at that sight? Even Natasha and Pepper looked a little hot under the collar and Bruce’s blush had returned full bloom. Sam coughed pointedly, graduating from one to both eyebrows raised when Tony finished the mug with a decadent sigh and went boneless against Steve. Steve just rolled his eyes at them all and wrapped his arm around Tony, who seemed oblivious, caught up in his hedonistic appreciation of caffeine.

Out from Steve’s arms came, “Mm, yes I love you, I will marry you.”

James looked up in surprise. Was Tony proposing? Fuck, right there? Now? He was thrilled for them, he was–He looked up.

Far from looking at Steve, Tony was whispering sweet nothings (and proposals!) into his coffee mug while he happily plastered himself over Steve. The rest of the team, obviously used to this behavior, hadn't even blinked at the earnest-sounding proposal. Unfortunately for James now that he’d gone back to looking he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

Tony was wearing a thin tank top that easily picked out his wiry musculature and his trim waist. Further down, a pair of loose sweats only barely hung on to his hips. At the junction, a small ribbon of skin was dancing as Tony moaned and draped some more, teasing the edges of a bruise just above his hips. James’s eyes sharpened, worry gathering. Still fresh, he’d been injured sometime in the last twelve hours old. James’s brow clenched as he studied it, big and stretching around his waist, the impression of a pair of large-

Oh, breathed James, gulping heavily.

He looked up and away from Tony only to see Steve’s eyes studying him.

Shit, he’d been caught and not by Natasha this time.

The moment their eyes locked was far too long for comfort but he couldn't look away; he was too full of _stuff_ , words he had no idea how to say. Not even in Russian. Not that Steve was any better; James couldn't read the tic in his jaw, and the heat on his cheeks could've been anything.

James looked away first, distracted by the arm recalibrating only to find Natasha's eyes on him. She gave him a look and a raised eyebrow before she went back to drinking her tea.

Fuck.

When he looked up, he found that Sam too seemed to be studying the situation with far too much canny in his eyes. As Sam caught Buc-James looking around, he only gave him a shrug and James ( _James, Yasha, James_ ) could almost hear him saying, “I can't help you, man.” Good to know he had everyone's confidence.

“Is that waffles?” Tony asked, sounding rather more awake this time.

“Yeah, Sam made some apple waffles, gluten-free, and we’ve got spiced plums and maple syrup to go with them,” said Steve, opening his arms to release Tony back into the world. Gosh, his voice was just so kind and sweet (remember when he sounded like that when he talked to you instead of stuttering sentences and uncertainty?) and he bent down to press a kiss to his cheek before Tony wandered off in search of waffles.

James did his best to turn his brain cells away from Steve and Tony and back to eating his food. Eating was a competitive sport in Avengers Tower and his team mates would pounce on any moment of distraction, and then the food would be gone. In his short moment of distraction, Natasha, Bruce and Pepper had already made a sizeable dent in the stack of waffles and the mountain of cobb salad. Meanwhile Sam was grabbing one of Steve’s fancy poached egg stacks, and Tony was securing a pile of waffles by leaning over Pepper's shoulder. Not to be outdone, James helped himself to a large serving of everything until his plate was bulging at the sides. Natasha gave him one of her ‘really?’ looks but James had eaten with her enough times to know that she was only jealous that she hadn’t thought of hoarding her food first.

Well, on second thought she probably had thought of it, because this was Natasha but had decided that it was beneath her and that her super spy skills would be enough to get her all the food that she needed. Whatever, James wasn’t above taking all the advantages he had in this sport even if they mostly consisted of shamelessness.

Opposite, a slow moan escaped from Tony’s mouth followed by a wet sound that was more at home in bed than at the breakfast table. James looked up with his mouth open, the breath punched out of him and wondering who the lucky fella was, and once again regretted it. How Tony could make eating waffles look so sensuous and sound so much like head was beyond him. While James was stuck out of gear, Tony licked plum syrup off his fingers, completely blissed out, and effectively ruined any chance James had of willing his cock to behave.

“Sam, these waffles are awesome, you’re my new favorite,” Tony was saying, looking at Sam with a dopey smile. “Don’t worry though, the rest of you can keep competing for the honor of second place,” he finished, eyes closed while he savoured a forkful of cream and fruit, a bead of syrup on his lip. A moment later, his tongue slipped out to capture it.

James whimpered. A little. In a manly sort of way. Under his breath. Mostly (Natasha was giving him yet another look).

Still, he wasn’t so distracted that when Steve went to grab an egg thing from his plate he didn’t notice. Unfortunately, Steve was also a v2.0 super soldier to his v1.0 and by the time James had reengaged his muscles, he was too late to stop the bastard.

James gave him a long, hard look but Steve continued to cut and eat his stolen meal innocently. Clearly James had been right to hoard, no matter what Natasha might think.

He just needed to stay alert and _not_ watch Tony collecting the drops of syrup off his plate with a finger and...carefully clean himself up again.

He was doomed. He was gonna do something unforgivable and unforgettable if Stark didn't fucking stop that shit right now.

“Mmhm, oh, hey, freezer-pop. The new carburetor came in on Friday. You free this morning?”

Oh damn, the car. He was utterly certain he wouldn't be able to work with his pants this tight. _What the fuck, cock, you traitor._ “Sure. If you're done makin’ time with your breakfast.” _Oh God that was not better._

“Jealous?” Tony asked with a suggestive wraggle of his eyebrows. He held the expression for a moment longer before breaking out into laughter. James gulped. That man should be illegal.

“Gimmie twenty minutes and a couple more cups of coffee and then we'll go to workshop paradise,” added Tony, pulling his plate closer to his chest and grabbing the Cobb salad.

“No problem,” James replied, all casual and grown-up and not with half a chub over Tony’s flirting, no sir. “I gotta get me some more food, too. _Someone_ ’s been shiming my rations.”

Tony's eyes sparkled and he smiled with a mouthful of avocado shoved into his cheek, eyes flicking between Steve's plate and Buck- huh. Bucky remembered Steve scavenging for food at camp, swapping cigarettes and chocolate for whatever fatty meat he could find, _James_ remembered slipping Natalia buttered bread and spam when the ballet trainer was being an ass.

 _Some girls just aren't that shape, dickwad_.

He blinked his way back to the 21st century, and went to refill everyone's coffee. Pepper gave him a grateful smile before turning on Tony. “You’ve got a board meeting tomorrow, please try and go over the notes I’ve sent you.”

Tony looked at her and Pepper looked at the ceiling. “JARVIS?”

“I will do my best to ensure that sir reads the appropriate files, Ms. Potts.”

Tony buried his head mumbling, “Traitor.”

Pepper gave him a smile and a kiss on his forehead before leaving with Bruce and Natasha for their regular Sunday yoga session.

James had gone once hoping it might lead to more adventurous activities but all they’d done was stretch and gotten him turned on. Course, to cap it all off Natasha had reminded him that Bruce was mono even if Natasha was poly, that Pepper didn’t do threesomes even with Rhodey and Natasha who were her partners, and that, as such, no such adventurous activities were likely to happen, and that it wasn’t any of his business anyways.

She’d sauntered off with Pepper leaving James behind with Bruce who’d given him a knowing look before going off to work on some science. Gifted at the art of torture, Natasha was. Still, at the end of it all, he’d learnt his lesson and had stopped hinting about it to Natasha. Sometimes, when his brain was too loud he even joined them these days.

\---

Sam was beat after his run, so a ridiculously enthusiastic breakfast just about had him to sleep at the table, but even that didn’t stop him from noticing the _eyes_ his boys were making at each other. It was hard to miss, to be honest. It was like one of those mirrors with three panels, all bouncing shit around, but never sticking.

Steve looked like he couldn’t be happier watching Barnes and Tony flirt, but hell, Sam was damn sure he didn’t realise how the rest lit up too. It's not like they had an excuse; prime example, figures 1a-c sitting to his left. Thor, stuffing his face, Jane industriously ploughing through a pile of avocado, and Darcy dazedly staring into the middle distance with a crispy stick of bacon sticking out of the corner of her mouth. They looked like they haven’t eaten in days which, given what Sam knew of Darcy and Jane’s apathy towards making food, was perhaps not surprising. Thor did okay, but most of his meals involved giant rolls of meat and fire. Compared to that, Sam, Steve and Bruce’s efforts were obviously appreciated even if it looked like they might still have not made enough food to compensate for the triad.

But the point was, Sam thought to himself, that the trio had been caught on the couch together plenty of times, and Steve had gotten het up about it enough to jerk Darcy into an instinctive lecture. Darce didn’t put up with any shit, feminist or race or orientation or anything and she’d set him straight. Steve had cooled right down once he recognised her tone; Sam had almost thought he was gonna take notes like it was a cultural sensitivity seminar. She’d majored in poli-sci for a reason, apparently.

Several minutes later, Barnes and Tony headed off as discussed, taking the sunshine off Steve's face with them. Sam propped his head up on his fist and gave Steve the long stare. It was as judgey as he got, and if Steve would just look up, he'd employ the traditional ‘go after them’ wriggle. But he didn’t, so instead he watched them eat and chatted until the food was all finished. Steve, of course, stayed wrapped up in his own little world. Sam sighed and started on the cleanup.

Sam wasn’t the only one to notice, either; Steve _did_ this, on the regular, but this was maybe a bit heavier than usual. Okay, so he looked like a dog left behind outside the mall. It was awful. In the living room, Darcy was making eloquent hand gestures, and Thor frowning ponderously in response, gesturing at her to wait a second. She looked at Sam pleadingly, but one does not interrupt Steve when he was doing his meditative dish-washing, even for deep and meaningful conversation.

No seriously, they had all morning, Darcy could stop with the eyebrows.

She threw her hands up and went to claim the couch. Jane drifted after her, gnawing on her lip. She was less perceptive than Darce and Thor, but Steve was not subtle. Thor shook his head before joining Sam and they settled into the routine, putting away the array of condiments and handing over, drying and then putting away the many, many serving plates, pots, pans and dishes that they had used. By the time they were finished, Steve had stood over an empty sink, looking out at Manhattan, for a full two un-moving minutes.

Sam took pity on him and gave him a hip-check which was enough to reanimate him. Steve back among the living, they followed the ladies to slouch in the sunshine. They hadn't even bothered with the TV so clearly indirect was not going to be the word of the day.

“What troubles you, Captain?” asked Thor, turning to look at Steve once they had all settled down and Steve still hadn't perked up. Sam would have been more subtle, but he wasn't about to rescue Steve, _nope, stop looking at me like that, Captain Blondie_. Steve gave up and tuned his confused puppy dog eyes on Thor instead.

Thor paused and then pressed again. “Despite the love of our tithingman and the recovery of your shield-brother, you are not at peace.”

“He means _Tony,_ sorry Steve,” interjected Jane.

Steve went all solid military in response, no sir nothing’s happening here, sir.

Sam sighed. So far so typical. Man, Steve sucked at this. It made Sam’s therapist brain hurt. If only Steve would talk; Sam would take him talking to anyone at this point.

Thor, it seemed, had more resilience to this sort of behavior than Sam had expected. Then again, he had grown up with Loki who seemed like the type to use the silent treatment a lot.

“You cannot take your eyes off them and it seems that they cannot take their eyes off of you. Or indeed each other,” added Thor, leaning in towards Steve. “Surely you must know that there is a solution to this? Do they not agree?”

Steve gave in and looked away and that was all you needed to know to know how messed up he was about this whole business.

“Maybe James didn’t know what you were asking him?” tried Jane hopefully. “Darcy has this great book–”

Steve looked up quickly, eyes blazing, suddenly alive and present again. “You aren’t giving him anything. I don’t need you harassing Buc _-James_ into a relationship with Tony and me. He’s made it clear that he doesn’t want that from me anymore and you had all better respect his wishes!”

Steve looked around ready to pick a fight with anyone who said otherwise but no one did more than look sad. Sam did his best but... Him too. It was fucking tragic, that's what. “I get that, Steve,” Sam promised. “We wouldn't push him, we just want to keep him in the loop.”

“It’s not–look he’s happy with Natasha,” Steve said, that strong, commanding note in his voice crackling with a horrible mixture mixture of anger and sadness. “Happier than he ever is with me, now. Sure, when we were younger I thought–I thought a lot of things and then there was Peggy…”

“Oh, Steve...” Darcy said, scrambling over Thor’s legs and delicately resting a hand on his arm. Thor wound his arm around her waist to keep her steady, and Jane tucked into Steve's other side. That right there, why couldn't Steve see it?

“What do you think it was like when I found out,” Steve said, taking in a gulp of air, “When I found out it was legal when I woke up, that we could have spent our lives together, kissed as old men in the middle of Time Square—” His hands clenched white fists into his lap as he looked, unseeing, straight ahead, back regulation straight, face as solid as a statue. “I have all of these memories of who he was before,” he blinked, a bit too long to be natural. “And he can barely talk to me under the weight of that.”

And then he was off, striding towards to window, hands still clenched, his expressive face now hidden from the rest of the couch. Sam could see every single muscle on his back picked out in sharp relief he was tensing them so hard, ready to shear at the bone.

The silence stretched around the room. Sam had known that Steve was fucked up in the head, who the hell wouldn’t be, going straight from years of unbroken service as the leader of a Spec Ops group during WWII, with little to no training, to losing your whole fucking world and your best friend with it? And then, all that shit with Bucky in D.C, yeah Sam wasn’t surprised that Steve was losing it a bit even with the expensive team he knew worked with Steve and Tony on their various issues. He wished he’d been able to convince Steve to come to one of his vet meetings; fuck, he wished he had a magic fucking wand.

“All I want,” Steve’s voice broke the silence, gentler but still stubborn, “is for us to learn to be friends again.”

Sam bowed his head. The problem was, part of him agreed. Tony had been good for Steve and Natasha for James. Working to reestablish their friendship was the sensible thing to do, not starting up complicated relationships that required a lot of hard graft to make work.

Thor joined Steve at the window and put a giant hand on Steve’s equally giant shoulder. “I do not believe he thinks so poorly of you, Captain; you have not lost your friend.”

“Anyone with eyes can see that,” added Darcy with a distinct eye roll. Jane elbowed her and Darcy huffed. “Anyone who shares a breakfast table with you and James knows first hand what assholes you two are. It's nauseating.”

Sam wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug her or shut her up. At the window, Steve’s back tensed before it relaxed a bit.

Sam pursed his lips. Decision time.

In the end, there was really only one thing he could advise.

He stood, walking over to Thor and Steve.

“Look, Steve, all the relationship stuff... It's eating at you. And I bet it's eating at them too,” Sam tried to make eye contact but Steve just wasn't having it. “You gotta talk to them about it, get it out in the air. At the moment, it’s poisoning any attempt you and Bucky make to sort out your relationship.”

Sam continued, “He is who he is now, right now, and that means letting you steal his breakfast and scrubbing out carburetors with a toothbrush with Tony for fun,” he finished with what tried to be a disarming smile.

Steve took a deep breath, eyes still fixed somewhere in the distance, face considering. Suddenly a small smile appeared on his frozen face. “They'd be pretty amazing together, huh.”

Not exactly what Sam was angling at, no. He resisted the urge to run his hand over his face too obviously and was mostly successful. Where the fuck did Steve get these leaps from. “I think you should start by talking, all three of you.”

Steve gave him a disappointed look. It made Sam feel like he needed to go donate blood or something. Like right this second. “What Tony and James do is between them. It doesn’t need to include me.”

Sam held out his hand. “I know that, man, wasn’t what I was trying to say.” He was officially giving up. He looked back up at Steve. “I’m just saying you should talk to Tony, get it all out in the air, you know? No one’s forcing you to do anything. You two can work out your stuff, and Tony and James can sort out theirs. We ain’t gonna pester them about it no matter what happens.”

Steve’s sternness faded away and he nodded apologetically. “Yeah, I didn’t mean to imply that you were going to do anything like that.”

Sam clasped a hand on Steve’s other shoulder. “We know, man. We just want you all to be happy.”

Steve gave Sam’s shoulder a firm squeeze in reply and he returned it. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Darcy perking up and Jane giving Steve a small but supportive smile.

Thor took pity on all of them and held out a giant hand. “Come, Captain, let us spar.”

Steve gave him a thankful look and let his own fall from Sam’s shoulder after another, softer squeeze.

“Ooooh, can you take off your shirts and get all oiled up?” came Darcy’s perky voice.

Sam shook off the offer to join them, more than a little glad to see them go. Steve needed some time to turn those thoughts over in his head and that was enough therapist work on a Sunday for him. He leaned into the couch and turned on the game. The Mets were leading the Royals 2-1 at the bottom of the 2nd. He perched forward, letting the drama of the tower fall away. This looked like it would be an exciting game.


	2. Chapter 2

The gasket itself was completely shot, but the surface should be fine underneath. A really good clean and the new carburetors would seal like a dream. The old ones were gunked up to hell and back with shitty, unfiltered fuel, which he would have to scrape out with a spatula before he recycled the steel, it was _glorious._

“You get those four flange nuts, James. Dummy, no. You do not get to use the winch, how about the blender instead, huh?”

Bucky had an ‘innate’ advantage in the arm, and had the crunchy old bolts well in hand. Tony could feel tension leeching out of the guy. This was good, right? Less tension. More grease.

“There, got it. Want me to lift it out?”

Tony leaned in and picked at the freshly exposed thread and its crusty collar of rust before tilting his head to look at Bucky. “I’ll lift you out,” Tony said with an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle.

Right on cue, his face relaxed into something more normal as he tried to grimace but couldn’t help but smile at Tony’s terrible line. The tactic, first developed on Rhodey, never failed him.

“I wouldn’t recommend it, Nat bites,” Bucky retorted.

“What’s a little biting amongst friends?” Tony said as he leaned against the body of the car and examined its innards. The tops of three of the pistons were starting to show, where the first carburettor was coming loose under their tender ministrations. He lifted the edge of the gasket and lo, there was a glossy, uncorroded surface underneath. Pitted slightly, but still as beautiful as the day she was machined.

“I’ll be sure to let her know that’s what you’re into,” Bucky said with chuckle. “Course she’d have to drag you away from the V12 first. Sure you don’t want me to leave you two alone? You look ready to make time with her.”

“Says the man who comes down here to polish her in the middle of the night,” Tony retorted easily. “Besides, are you saying that you’re in an open relationship with this car?”

Bucky shrugged. “Seems only fair given how often you’ve played with her insides. But I’ll have you know that I wouldn’t be down with just anyone touching her.”

“Glad to know I’m on your yes list,” joked Tony, as he ducked into the housing and examined the piston heads. “Did you hear that babe? Buck’s down for a threesome but you gotta be exclusive with us.” he said in a low drawl as he worked on a bit a gunk.

Bucky sputtered, which devolved into coughing in short order.

“You need a glass of water?” asked Tony as he turned away from the engine to check over Bucky. He looked a bit flushed but otherwise in good shape (damn fine shape really, Barnes was in all the right proportions, lucky Nat). It wasn’t often Tony got too lewd for him; he’d sure as hell cracked worse jokes over the engine block. Maybe he was coming down with something that weakened his resistance to the Tony Stark charm. Steve seemed more or less immune to pathogens but Bucky’s super soldier qualities were a bit more varied across the board. Surreptitiously, he gestured for JARVIS check Bucky’s radiative temperature using the IR detector. If Bucky looked over, all he would see was Tony’s usual tinkering at one of the room’s many computer screens, a sensor aimed in the cars general direction.

38˚C; running a little hot but not out of line with his usual fluctuations. Huh... maybe it was more mundane than a superbug and Bucky’s neuroatypical brain was just doing something different today.

Bucky shrugged off his concern, finishing his croaking with a more deliberate throat clearing maneuver. “So what next?”

“We’re going to pull off the carbs, nothing fancy to this bit. See if you can scrape the crud off the bolts first and then I'll pull it by hand.” He paused while Bucky raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Yes, my normal human hands, it's not heavy, Buck, it's just jammed.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Bucky drawled, giving Tony’s biceps a once over and looking unconvinced. He started scraping away at the rust flakes with his screwdriver, though, and Tony restricted himself to grumbling as he reached in to test a fuel line. It didn’t disintegrate so much as ooze decades of filth onto his fingers. It, and all the rest like it, would need replacing completely.

Smart mouthed, James and Steve. They deserved each other. Tony eyed up the first old carburetor, dripping rust every time Bucky touched it, and compared the attachment surface to the four new ones, lined up on the edge of the bench, shiny and chrome. They were perfectly finished and Tony couldn't help checking them out; all those lustrous curves, and the V12 waiting for them? She was gonna purr like a kitten.

He hauled himself out from under the hood and scrubbed some of the filth off his hands with a rag. Maybe with Steve and Bucky bantering, Tony wouldn’t have to put up with so much of Steve’s fuckin’ awful sense of humor. His heart only twinged a little bit at the idea; he could share.

Dummy rolled over and offered him a bright green concoction which Tony took as he turned back to programming the machining for the new gearbox parts. Tony had estimated modern tooth profiles would lead to a 5% increase in efficiency which wasn't trivial on these old engines, and it wouldn't change the feel at all.

Ha. It’d be just his luck if Steve would raise his game with Bucky healing steadily. _The little shit, doesn’t know how lucky he is_ , Tony thought, repressing a sappy as fuck little smile and adjusting the keyway depth to account for modern steel formulations.

It wasn’t exactly challenging work for him, any of this, but the shrink had said that Buck needed team projects that didn’t involve killing people. Tony _liked_ working on the car with him, anyway. Kept him away from the over-engineered, immaculate roadster.

Avenging was right out, maybe permanently; there would be no ‘ _Winter Soldier: Avenger’_. They had plenty of Avengers, though, and only one Bucky. Tony didn't mind taking the time off real work to play with an old car. He really, really didn’t, especially not with company like _James Buchanan Barnes._

It’d been Steve’s idea, really; he’d mentioned that Bucky had always eyed up cars, way back when, and one thing had led to another and Tony maybe had gotten a little invested in the project and now here they were restoring a 1971 Lamborghini Miura P400 SV. It had been Maria’s favourite car when he was a kid, proud of its Italian engineering and beautiful styling. She’d always loved V8’s best but when the Miura had been launched, there’d been no car better in her eyes; twelve trumps eight anyday.

She used to say that she’d only gone on a date with Howard because she’d wanted a ride in his brand new 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO. In the end, he’d given it to her as an engagement present, telling her it was the least he could do after being chided so often that he didn’t appreciate it enough.

Steve had been all furrowed brow when Tony had suggested buying a clapped out Lamborghini but he had a soft spot a mile wide, and as soon as he’d heard the first touches of excitement in Bucky’s voice, Steve’d crumbled down to his gooey truffle centre like Tony knew he would. After that, buying the car had been a breeze even if Steve had winced when he’d seen the price.

Tony could have just gone around him and bought it without asking but that was the sort of thing that was not recommended in healthy relationships. He and Steve were working on talking before acting; it was a thing in progress, but they _were_ working on it.

In the end it had worked, Bucky did seem to do better after a long hard day at the shop, strutting off to shower with a languid sway to his hips.

Tony took a sip of the smoothie as half of his brain happily pursued that line of thought.

Pineapple.

The unexpected taste derailed the fantasy just as quickly as it had begun. Normally Dummy just used kale, banana and blueberries.

“JARVIS,” Tony asked, as sternly as he could, “Did you let Dummy have access to the internet again?” Dummy, caught out, ducked down and scooted away, pretending to be cleaning off the bench.

JARVIS didn’t normally take this long to respond. “JARVIS?”

“He was concerned about the nutrition profile of his smoothies after the Captain’s most recent complaints against them, sir. I was certain to supervise his searches.”

Tony gave Dummy a look. He obviously had JARVIS wrapped around his little finger.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught Bucky grinning, just managing to suppress a chuckle. Tony shot him a look too because he hadn’t seen the destruction Dummy had caused when he’d discovered online shopping and he was trying to discipline his bots here, Bucky, stop undermining his authority.

“I followed every page that he visited, sir. At no point was he able to purchase anything.” JARVIS even managed to sound hurt.

Tony eyed Dummy. “Sure...” Really, given the amount of trouble that Dummy managed in the workshop on a regular basis, there was no telling what he’d been able to get up to even on a supervised internet adventure.

Still, there wasn’t anything that Tony could do about it now. With one last suspicious look at Dummy he said, “Alright JARVIS but if he’s set up a Pinterest account, you’re the one who gets to be yelled at by Pepper, not me.”

JARVIS’s silence spoke volumes.

“Pinterest?” interrupted Bucky, now working on carburetor number two.

“Social media site where you collect and share links. Lots of pictures, so Dummy’s a big fan,” explained Tony as he packed up the gear specs and slouched over to the back of the car. Bucky had eased up the bolts plenty, so Tony gave it a little love and lifted the carb straight up. Flakes of rust fell onto his hands and the gasket was sticky as sin but it came off anyway, and Tony dumped it in the recycling crate.

“Just don't upload anything, bud,” Bucky told the bot. “Or you'll get in trouble with dad.”

Tony's heart went all loose and warm and he bent over the engine block with his own wrench to hide it, grinning to himself. Dummy had no such restraint and clicked the shutter again, unable to keep up his sad act.

A sharp clang on the shop’s concrete floor had Tony turning around. Bucky had gone tight across the shoulders, his enviable shoulders bunched into knots and his human knuckles white on the chassis.

“What happened?”

“Dropped the fucki-- the wrench. Sorry.” He could have cracked nuts on his jaw (–did Bucky eat nuts? Strangely, that wasn't something Tony knew.).

“It's fine, Buck, take a second. Your baby isn't going anywhere.” Bucky had sniper’s hands, steady and silent. It made him a great help in the workshop and he’d never dropped anything, Tony was under the impression that even if he did, he’d catch it before it hit the floor. This was a long way out of the realm of normal. He reached for the arm; the only explanation he could think of was that it’d errored, or ached, or something. Now that it was removable, it could get bits of dust and scraps of cleaning cloth stuck in the socket, but Bucky was getting pretty awesome at the whole deal... The servos went loose as soon as Tony touched it, followed by the muscles under the socket, so Tony supported his wrist gently, eyes on Bucky's face.

“Yeah, sorry. Just, distracted for a second.” Bucky said, closed eyes unreadable, but some version of painful. His shoulder went loose next, dropping his elbow into Tony's palm and he relaxed. Tony stood up and turned to perch on the rear bumper, pulling Bucky against his side so the arm rested on his knee. This wasn't like him, Bucky wasn't clumsy, and didn't just get ‘distracted’. Maybe he was coming down with something after all.

“Where does it hurt?” asked Tony as he examined the prosthetic limb more carefully. Back when Bucky’d first come back to Steve the weight of the thing had started to curve his spine and his muscles had been all in knots, the circuitry poorly integrated and a constant irritation that spiked into pain far too frequently. Tony had had a go at it, decided it was bullshit and redesigned the socket so Bucky could sleep without it and the problems seemed to have gone away. Still, complex systems had equally complex failure modes, as much as he tried to weed them out.

Tony pulled out a tiny screwdriver and opened up the diagnostic port so J could run some queries wirelessly. There was a bit of cloth in one of the finger joints, which he removed, but he doubted it could have caused a problem.

Tony looked back up at Bucky and waved the scrap of (probably) bedsheet. “Nice night?” he asked, smirking.

Bucky didn’t respond which told Tony how bad things had to be. Bucky was still all tense in the shoulders and jaw but he’d gotten a bit of colour back into his cheeks at the ribbing, so that was something.

“Was it just a burst of pain, or does it still hurt?” Tony pressed.

“Err, a burst?” Bucky hedged. Tony took that to mean it still hurt, because who asks a statement like that?

Tony hummed dubiously. “J, send a clean toolbox my way. Can you open and close your hand for me? Any spikes?”

Bucky complied and shook his head.

“Turn your wrist in circles, clockwise and then counter clockwise,” Tony said and he inspected the joint at each angle. “Anything now?” More head shaking. “The elbow?” They repeated the exercise as they moved up the arm. Slowly, Bucky released some of his tension, leaning into Tony and being all warm and delightful while Tony worked over his shoulder. Best kind of hug; warm supersoldier and a beautiful distraction.

Ahah, there in the shoulder girdle, a piece of foreign metal was imbedded in one of the overlapping joints.

“Alright, I think I’ve found a jam. Can you turn off the arm for a second please?” asked Tony as he put Bucky's arm down in his lap to grab a spreader and the tweezers he would need to extract it from the box U was offering. It looked like it might be a bit harder than the alloy he’d used for Bucky’s arm and had left a tiny dent; he’d have to send it over to JARVIS for analysis once he’d gotten it out. J provided a spotlight and Tony shuffled until the powered-down arm was supported on his left arm, freeing up his right to fiddle.

A couple of minutes in, Bucky broke the silence. “You and Steve... You have a bruise, and...”

His shirt must have ridden up at some point, and Steve's handprint was hard to miss. “Jheeze, Buck, it’s nothing I didn't ask for,” he said as he carefully inserted a small spreader into the join.

“I'd say you ask for a damn sight more than that, and all. I'm not worried. I’d have the same if I wasn't...” He waggled his human fingers and hid his face by turning it into Tony's shoulder and sighing. Tony was on to him, but the infuriating thing was that it still worked; Tony couldn't tell what was going on and he couldn’t look away from his repair job right now.

The slider joint between the two overlapping parts finally opened and Tony worked the tweezers in, trying to get a good hold on the shard without dropping it into the mechanics inside. A stylus magnet would have come in real handy, because Buck wasn't magnetic, and maybe the shard was, but he hadn't thought to grab one. For a few minutes, the only sounds were the music in the background and the delicate clicks of metal on vibranium composite.

“Ahaha,” exclaimed Tony triumphantly as he worked it free. He dropped it on to a dish before turning back to the arm to get the spreader out.

He gave it a last look over but that seemed to have been the problem, and the dent was so small it wouldn't foul on the underplate. “Alright, you can turn it back on again. Do the same range of motion exercises, see if anything twinges. And actually tell me, this time. I got no time for macho bullshit, Barnes,” Tony said sternly, gesturing with the tiny screwdriver. It was hard to look menacing with one this size but it was the thought that counted. “I’ll try to work out what this is and how you picked it up, see what I can do to tighten up the gap.”

Bucky nodded, still sitting on the car, face still pointed over Tony's shoulder and weight firmly against Tony's side.

“Hey,” said Tony and decided, what the hell, they were most of the way there already, and put his arms back around Bucky's shoulders. A weird shiver ran through them, starting in Bucky and leaping across the space between them to make the hair on the back of Tony's neck stand on end. Once it passed, they pulled away from each other and Tony, at least, felt like he was looking at a subtly different person.

Bucky finally looked up, and _oh._ That was fear. Tony’s grip tightened on the metal of his shoulder to stop his retreat. “I'm sorry, I really am, I shouldn't feel--” Bucky broke off, biting his lip and looking away. From Tony, from the car, even from Dummy. He found the biggest empty space to stare at and did something with his face that made Tony's chest hurt.

“There isn't really a ‘shouldn't’ here? You feel what you feel, it's kinda a thing that happens.” Tony tried to inject some levity into his voice, but no luck. This was maybe more than he could handle. He'd try though, obviously.

“Maybe I got gas, the hell do you know,” Bucky grouched, rubbing the back of his wrist over his forehead and smearing grease around.

Tony rocked sideways and bumped his human shoulder. “Hey, whatever you feel is real, it's come out of you. Even pain. I know you've had issues with it, with ignoring it, but, feeling pain is important. That's the only reason the arm even interfaces with that bit of your nervous system; if that piece of metal had worked it’s way in, it could have cut one of the wires, maybe killed the arm at a really bad time.” Tony tried his best to give him a reassuring smile. “It’s no problem to do repairs. Got to uphold my good reputation, can’t have my people running around with inferior tech.”

Bucky shivered like someone dropped an ice cube down his shirt and the arm recalibrated at the wrist. “I’m sorry. I don't know what's going on, I just... I'm a mess.”

Tony was so out of his depth here, he was totally not authorized to do the shrinky thing with Bucky, but since Bucky chose that moment to take a supersoldier sized breath and pull himself together, he couldn't be doing all that bad.

“Good thing I've got people like you to patch me up, huh?” Bucky said, stepping back enough to let Tony up.

Tony hesitated and then wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulder, patting it. “Anytime, buddy. Any damn time.”

The silence stretched on, a bit unquiet before Bucky seemed to rally. “Let’s finish what we started, okay?” he said. They stayed there, Tony’s arm around Bucky’s shoulders for a moment longer anyway, before they turned their attention back to the car.

\--

_Close fucking call, Barnes._

He checked Tony wasn't watching and unscrewed a bolt with his fingers instead of the wrench. Tony's bruises were far too hot to be legal in the state of New York, particularly when he could recognise the ridiculous span of Steve's grasp in them. That was worse than lusting after Steve, way worse.

“ _Wrench,_ Barnes.”

He winced and waved the damn thing at Tony over his shoulder. He was lucky there had actually been a chip in there, or he'd have been made.

Who the fuck has a crush on ...whatever Steve was to him, _and_ the boyfriend? While in a relationship already?

It was getting out of hand. Dropping a part over a lovemark? With Tony in the room?

He was so fucked, Natasha was going to _meddle_ and shit was gonna go down, aww heck. Maybe she'd throw him over for Pepper, and keep him chained to the bedpost like the _useless fucking human being_ he was.

Of course, he wouldn't necessarily mind. All this making your own decisions was _awful._

 _(The thought made a not-so-nice shiver skitter through him, a half remembered thing with the sound of iced up chains over frozen road–_ )

He stubbornly loosened the next bolt with his fingers too.

\--

“The stretching at the beginning.”

“Really? But they're not even sweaty yet,” Tony pointed out, eyes firmly forwards.

“But the poses, and the stretches are what carry over into the bedroom,” Darcy added, bolstering Jane's argument and making her blush simultaneously.

Tony tilted his head enough to see Thor's face from between Steve's thighs, pink from the chokehold. “But there's choice positions here too, look at that.”

The ladies joined him in the looking and Darcy let out an aggrieved sigh. “I want them to be wearing less. Ideally, nothing.”

Tony raised his bottle of water to that and took a drink. “I could raise the thermostat, we could pretend to do hot yoga and see if they get a bit warm in their gear.”

Jane looked tempted, but not even Darcy's pleading face turned that into a reality. “We should get back to it, really...”

Tony grimaced and shrugged. He looked nothing like Thor or Steve when _he_ exercised. If it weren't for the beard, his face would look unpleasantly blotchy. The ski-pole exercises were important for keeping his back strong, though, in a way workshop work didn't provide. Darcy had possession of the leg weights, and Jane was on the groundwork mat between the two machines, explicitly placed for maximum company in the face of unfairness. Speaking of which...

Steve flipped over with a yelp and a flail, landing on one elbow and his face with his ass in the air as Thor escaped the lock with an improbable wriggle.

Fuck, Steve had to have one of the most perfect asses out there, round and tight with definition from his glutes. As he struggled to get out of Thor’s subsequent lock, Tony watched it flex.

“God bless science,” said Darcy with a sigh.

“I hate to say it, but...” They all took a second to watch Thor’s bare arms flex against Steve’s shoulder. “Odin bless us all.”

Jane winced. “Don’t bring his dad into this, please?”

Tony shouldn’t find that funny, but he did. He manfully controlled his giggles. “That’s gotta be weird.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just one big mess o’ weird,” Darcy commented, settling back on the weight machine for her next set. She had it set up for calf and thigh, high reps rather than heavy weights.

Tony shared her lack of interest in growing big muscles; he needed to keep flexible and lithe or it wouldn’t matter how much he shaved off the suit’s feed-forwards time. What he was interested in were big muscles on _other people_. Like Steve. Steve’s muscles were gorgeous. God, his _thighs_ , not to mention the amount of power he could thrust with–

“Oh dear...” Jane said breathlessly, drawing their attention back to the boys on the sparring mat.

Steve had turned the tables, briefly, and Thor was even more ruthless in getting him back into an arm lock. His full weight was planted on the back of Steve’s thighs, his knees on either side of Steve’s hips and both of Steve’s wrists held in the small of his back.

Whatever it was Thor wore as underwear, it wasn’t doing the job of hiding ‘Mjolnir’ very well where his sweatpants were stretched around the underside of Steve’s ass. They were... a good fit.

Tony swallowed.

To his left, Darcy made a rising tone and pushed the leg weights up in parody of a boner.

“ _Darce!_ ” Jane hissed, and Tony and Darcy both broke down laughing quietly.

“Am I the only one who really feels it after they’ve been sparring?” Tony asked, leaning forwards conspiratorily. “Because Thor is packing a lot of heat and I get the feeling Steve’s not the only one... ah.. enjoying himself.”

Jane flopped out of her plank to the yoga mat and hid her face. Darcy made serious eyebrows at him over her back.

“Okay, good to know.”

“Takes him a while to get used to normal human resilience again, I guess. And who wouldn’t get turned on by all that?” Darce gestured at all of Steve, no longer face down, but still firmly pinned.

Tony was starting to suspect Steve preferred being the underdog. Which...slightly weird on the toppiest of tops. Even when they switched, Steve couldn’t help taking physical control; maybe Tony brought that out in him. He certainly brought it out in Pepper, and Rhodey. And JARVIS.

Tony’s nose wrinkled in thought and he stepped up his game on the exercise machine, stretching and pumping the muscles whose complaints had chased him out of the workshop. Bucky wasn’t the only one who could get grit in his works after a bout of energetic sex. Thinking of, that chip of metal could have come from Natasha’s weaponry; worth looking into, at least. There wasn’t much on the planet that was harder than Bucky’s composite arm. Tony leaned into a hamstring stretch, pushing the ski poles away and bending at the waist to really feel it ache. Still the good kind of burn, except for around his tailbone, but even that had good connotations.

So what if Tony wasn’t dominant in bed? That was fine, right? Steve hadn’t said anything about it. In fact he was normally pretty vocal in his appreciation of Tony giving control over to him. And he could have just let Tony take the lead if he wanted it, it wasn’t like Tony’d _assumed_ Steve would be bossy.

“God, they would look good together-- Oh! Sorry, Tony, um, I don’t mean Steve _would_ \--”

Tony twitched himself out of his reverie and started pushing his muscles again. “It’s fine, really. I think Thor’s on my ‘Pass’ list.” He glanced at Darcy and then down at Jane, both of them relaxing. “Reckon you two are, too. I’m not sure Steve understands the concept though.”

Darcy’s eyes went shuttered, like she was working out how she felt about that. Jane, on the other hand, sighed sadly and twisted herself into a different pretzel. “We were talking about communication after breakfast and I’m really entirely sure he doesn’t.”

Tony stopped bothering with his stretching and lent on the poles, watching Steve and Thor wrestle and feeling despondent. If Steve really did need something rougher and more robust, then he should feel like he could at least ask. Thor was open about being amenable, as long as people acknowledged that Jane and Darcy came first. (Metaphorically, presumably.)

“I’ll talk to him. I know he’s fine with the principle, but...it’s not for everyone, maybe he just doesn’t feel it.”

The women stayed quiet, watching Steve demonstrate something to Thor, pushing his limbs around and adjusting his feet. He looked glowy, happy and sweaty and eager.

\---

Steve hit the mat with his back and a rather bone-jarring thud.

“You are distracted, Captain, you should keep your eyes on me, not our audience!” Thor murmured conspiratorially, grinning.

Steve sprung back upright when Thor gave him the opportunity by waggling his eyebrows pointedly instead of following Steve to the mats for a pin. “It’s not my eyes that’re the problem, buddy. Can’t close my ears.”

“Hah. They gossip?”

“Mostly about how they think we’d be ‘together’,” Steve said wrily. His shoulder was feeling the throw so he took a second to stretch it again. Thor waved his fingers in a dismissive ‘go ahead’, though it wasn’t a complete guarantee that Steve wouldn’t have to fend off a tackle.

“It’s a tempting thought indeed, my friend,” Thor replied, gracing Steve with a grin he usually only saw directed at Jane and Darcy.

“I... Uh.” Steve fumbled in his stretch momentarily, looking away from Thor and watching the trio instead. Unfortunately, they were no help and his ears were soon blushing again.

“What’s a pass list?” Steve asked, turning to look back at Thor. Really he was lucky that Thor hadn’t taken advantage of his distraction. “Maybe I should ask J, it sounds, uh, relevant...” It seemed like he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“It’s a list of people compiled in advance with whom carnal relations are not cheating.” Thor replied, kindly. “There is a game, I do not pretend to fathom it but Darcy plays it avidly.” He looked curiously at Steve. “Who is it that Tony has on his pass list for you that has you blushing so deeply, my friend?”

“Well, uh, you and uh, Bucky.” He’d have to talk to Tony about what he meant, because he wasn’t about to let anything stay ambiguous this time.

“Will you be warning him off speaking of this to Bucky, also?” Thor asked, leaning closer and speaking quietly.

Steve’s jaw stiffened, his molars aching, and he focused on his hand wraps for a second. “Tony wouldn’t-- he’d make a joke of it, Buck’s good with jokes.”

“Ah, Tony Stark is more tactful than my Darcy, of course.”

Steve winced. “Puts this morning into perspective, thank you for that, oh god of the wise oak.”

“No need to be crude, Captain,” Thor nuded him with his hip, eyebrows dancing up and down exaggeratedly.

The innuendo fell flat, though, and Steve covered his face under the guise of scrubbing sweat off his forehead. “Look, Bucky and Tony can talk, really _talk_. I trust Tony with him, he’s the one with the most experience working with his boundaries.”

“You would be happy to see them in bed together. This is clear. But it is complex and perhaps...you feel that Bucky has had enough complex?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t-- Tony and me, we’re a mess. We’ve got a whole team of doctors, we talk their goddamn ears off about all this... _shit_ we deal with, but it doesn’t just _go away_ because you talk about it.”

“And this? Will you speak of this? To Tony, and to whomever is so placed to help you...become less complex?”

“If there was a doc that could untangle this fucking mess, I’d give ‘em my shield.” Steve paused. “Not sure how I feel about that,” he admitted. He was Tony’s partner, he wasn’t about to cheat-- but that was what a pass list was for, apparently. Thinking about them together didn’t feel _bad_ , but having Bucky back, his Buck? God help him, he had no idea what he was doing.

“However you feel, feel it. Don’t worry about finding the words for it; better people than you and I have spent eons trying to capture the foibles of the heart. We are men of action, we are far better suited to the mead halls and the noble battlefield!”

And that was all the warning Steve got before Thor was on him again, wrestling him to the ground. He managed to twist them over and lock Thor’s right arm between his thighs, but failed to capture his left with his calf. The lock broken, Thor sent them both tumbling over again and they were off.

\---

Eventually, Darcy finished her reps on the leg weights and rolled to the mat to snuggle with Jane, who gave up on her half-assed yoga in a snap.

“C’mere, Tony. You’re all knotted up.”

He sighed and slumped down to the mat. He’d had a good morning, they’d done good grease-monkey work, and Bucky had... made cryptic comments about his bruises. Damnit. “You offering me a backrub, D? Because I would love that.”

“Yes siree, that I am. You okay with mango butter?”

He wriggled onto his stomach and pulled his shirt over his head at the implication that she was going to do this properly. “Honey, I am fine with whatever you want. Pummel me.”

She had a quick, quiet word with Jane, who slithered over and, humiliatingly, held Tony’s hand. But if he was anything, he was a hedonist and he wasn’t about to say no to a supergenius if she wanted to hold onto him.

“I’m gonna sit on your butt, okay. Go loose, cowboy.”

He did his best to relax and she slapped a bunch of body butter on his back. It was cold at first and he shivered a little under Darcy. Her warm hands smoothed the melting oil firmly but gently up his back before gently bringing them back down, covering every inch and muscle with steadily warming oil. Tony wiggled, trying to lie still and relax.

“Am I gonna smell like a fruit isle, Darce?” he asked warily, turning his head sideways and giving the air a sniff.

“It fades pretty quick, you big baby,” said Darcy, thumbs starting to dig into his lower back. “Even to Steve’s nose. Now woman up and enjoy your massage.”

Tony grumbled but did relax his shoulders. Darcy’s casual pranks were a thing to be wary of. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have a bucket of some fruity perfume dumped on him right before a night out with Steve.

Darcy settled down on his butt a little more firmly and she rolled her hands down so the whole heel of her palm was squashing into his muscles. His toes opened and closed at the deep pressure and he tried not to blush; out of the people in the room, only Steve knew how little control he had over his toes and he was looking in the other direction.

Darcy’s warm hands started up a circular pattern again, slowly growing firmer and firmer as his skin got slick with warming oil and the faint scent of coconut joined the mango.

Tony looked up, puzzled, when he felt Jane rotating his wrists. She gave him one of her bright smiles in exchange.

“Hand massage. Very good for someone who spends as much time at the computer as we do,” Jane explained cheerfully as she pushed deeply into his palm. Tony groaned. At the same time, Darcy was working the tight muscles in his low back, pushing (owwww) and then releasing (aahhh). The combination was more than a little distracting.

Tony nodded vaguely in Jane’s direction in an attempt to convince her that he was listening. On second thought, he couldn’t really say he minded bringing out the top in everyone when it got him free back massages. He gave another stretch and wiggle, taking a deep breath that had Darcy putting her hand on the mat for balance before letting it all out in a rush and sinking bonelessly into the floor.

“I actually used this to make cash when I was in undergrad,” came Jane’s voice. Tony’s ears perked up. “Exam season was the best time, but I got a lot of people come by from math, physics and engineering, all semester. All those weekly problem sets, all written by hand.”

Tony laughed delightedly. “The first incarnation of JARVIS was actually as a note taker for those bastards, so I could dictate my solution and he’d write it down for me.”

“That’s– That’s infuriating,” squawked Jane, hand massage momentarily paused. “I cannot believe I didn’t consider that myself! I almost developed carpal tunnel my final year!”

Tony wriggled his fingers dismissively. “You had your own corner of the universe to map.” Darcy took that moment to press on a particularly large knot on his right side. Fucking hell. Tony added another reminder to his mental notebook to get her a fruit basket, or a portable massage table. ...shoes?

“I already offered to install JARVIS into your laptop,” Tony mumbled after a moment's thought. Realizing his opportunity he added, “The offer’s still open--”

“No thank you, Tony, really,” Jane interrupted.

“He really is excellent at writing out theoretical equations no matter how sleep deprived you might be–”

Tony could feel Darcy’s _look_ in the extra weight she leant on his shoulders and quickly shut up. He huffed quietly; he’d bring them ‘round eventually. He was sure that he could work JARVIS into one of Jane’s electronics before the next time she went off to some remote observatory and Darcy could never say no to a cupcake or a visit to the used bookstore (though Tony was sure that he could do better. He would find Darcy’s weakness one of these days and when he did, he would give her the grandest, most perfect gift and she would not be able to refuse.)

Jane let go of her grudge quickly, anyway, and started to complain about the new publication rules she had to follow now that her research was partially classified. Darcy’s massage relaxed in turn. Tony worked hard to restrain himself from telling her about the new particle accelerator he’d built for her, toes beginning to tap with the effort of it. Thankfully, once Jane got on one of these monologues she didn’t need much to keep her going and Tony was able to go back to enjoying his loosening muscles and pondering on gift ideas.

Slowly, Darcy’s strokes gentled as the massage came to a halt. By the end, she was sitting with half her weight on his ass and her hands just resting on his spine.

“Okay, babe. You’re done. You okay for me to get up?”

“Wha...? Yeah, ‘course.”

She patted his back and clambered off him, leaving him feeling glowy and warm. She stood up and Jane passed her a hand towel, obviously getting ready to head for the showers but Tony stayed happily on the mat, soft as a noodle and not caring a bit.

“I want you to know that the job offer is still very much open, Darcy,” said Tony, turning his head to look vaguely at the two, his brain heavy and blissed out. “The duties would now include a daily massage on top of answering my emails, dealing with Pepper and forging my signature on my paperwork.”

“Your offer to repay all my student loans, along with platinum health insurance and a guaranteed pension are obviously tempting,” came Darcy’s distinctive drawl. “But Jane’s incentive package comes with other–” she paused, suddenly muffled and when Tony looked up, Jane’s mouth was firmly muting her and they both sank into the kiss. Time was marked by the thumps and grunts from the sparring mats while they made out. He let himself begin to get lazily turned on by the display, lying all loose and sensuous on the mat.

“–benefits,” finished Darcy, sounding both smug and out of breath.

Tony sighed theatrically in response, unable to keep the smile off his face.

Obviously, Jane was the key, he told himself as he rolled onto his freshly-flexible back. Now that SHIELD had fallen and SHIELD 2.0 was doing it’s very best Bambi on ice impression, maybe he could lure her into a position. From there, Darcy would follow and Thor’s visits would be more frequent. The Avengers would all be happier and it would be more convenient in the event of world peril. Jane would still need to go to isolated observatories on occasion, light pollution, _actual_ pollution, etc, etc, but perhaps if he worked on designing a telescope that could be run from New York, like a remote-- no, high altitude? Damn, no, what they really needed was a satellite telescope that had detectors in the very high frequency range--

Jane picked his hand up off his belly and tugged him upwards. He let himself be pulled up, head buzzing with an idea for a magnetic lens.

Darcy gave him an up and down, her smile turning into a smirk. “Looks like someone had a good time.”

Tony gave a careless shrug and stretched, content to be admired, slowly coming back to himself and leaving his engineering thoughts in a back corner where he wouldn’t forget them. “I wonder who could be responsible for that?”

Darcy caught Jane’s hand. “Tell Steve he owes us drinks,” she said with a smile, gesturing at all of him before turning and heading to the change room. Jane gave a wave of her own and Tony wondered just how wrecked he looked. Not that he was upset at the thought, thoroughly rumpled was a good look on him and it hadn’t taken his stylist hours in front of a mirror.

Done watching the ladies leave, he turned to check on Steve and Thor. They were patting each other on the back, all relaxed and glistening, Steve’s smile finally light and sunny. Tony’s stomach gave a little flutter; it was a good thing Steve didn’t look like that all the time or he’d have plants blooming in winter. Thor let out a bellow, illustrating a story point with a grand gesture and Steve laughed, rubbing his forehead with his towel. Tony’s gaze turned considering, his earlier conversation with Jane and Darcy changing the shape of his headspace a little bit. He adjusted his clothes, still studying them, mind whirring with endless possibilities and futures.

It couldn’t hurt to try.

\--

Steve found himself hesitating when he could have broken out of the wrist-pin; Thor didn’t have any control of his hips, let alone his legs, he could have escaped a whole three seconds ago, but didn’t really _want_ to. Thor was the one distracted now, looking over at Jane and the rest, his expression one of fond bemusement. They were talking about JARVIS, and Tony wanted to give D a job again. He was stubborn, Steve would give him that.

Steve dropped his head to the mat and closed his eyes. It didn’t feel bad that Tony wouldn’t mind he and Thor... getting carnal, it felt like it should, and that felt...a little bit bad. What an absolute mess.

But hey, at least he could go up to Tony and casually say, ‘hey, you know Bucky’s on my pass list, right?’ and that would be it, that would be simple, nothing at all like what he’d been trying to find the words for.

Slowly, his heart rate dropped and he relaxed, Thor’s hands heavy on his forearms and his knees caging Steve’s chest.

Yeah, Bucky and Tony had a pass. God, he could draw them together, leave it somewhere they’d find it working on the car. Tony would blush, and Bucky would... Well, he didn’t know what Bucky would do anymore. At least Natasha had been perfectly clear about how much fidelity she expected; one less uncertainty.

“Are you well, Captain?”

“Hmm, yeah. I’m pretty comfy.”

He heard the girls kissing in the distance, a distinctly soft, easy sound that had become tangentially familiar. Steve could be like Thor, right now, watching and happy and pleased that his two favourite people in the world were having a good time.

“Are you sure, Steve?”

Surprised by the first name, Steve shook himself slightly and opened his eyes. “Yeah, I am. What’s--”

Thor squeezed his wrists, eyes serious and kind.

Oh.

“Huh, would you look at that.” Steve grinned up at him, breaking that serious expression into amusement, then breaking the pin, too. Thor went hurtling off to the left, rolling over twice and thumping down off the mats with Steve on top, his hands free and Thor’s right arm locked again. They paused, looked at the carpet, then back at each other, and rolled back to the right. This put Steve on his back on the mats, so he brought his knees up to his shoulders, planted his feet on Thor’s hips, and launched him away.

With a kind of miraculous shock, Thor landed on his feet, arms wheeling for balance. They gaped at each other for a second, then came together at the center of the mat.

“We gotta try that again,” Steve said, blinking up at him.

“Aye, I hadn’t grasped quite how much force you could exert, it is truly impressive.”

“Think you can launch me?” Steve asked, standing and sweeping sweaty hair off his forehead.

“Of course, though I am not sure I could repeat the landing,” Thor said, filled with joy. “I bare know where my feet were.”

“Well, we’ll give it a go, huh? Could come in handy; even Nat couldn’t get back on you so quick after being launched halfway across the gym.”

“Any hand up over Natasha is a hand worth grasping,” Thor intoned, slapping Steve on the back and describing the arc he had flown with his other hand. “Like Jorgmandr, she travels silent, then when the moment is right, she strikes!” He rattled them both with a vigorous grasping gesture. “To our benefit, always and of course,” Thor added.

Steve rubbed at his sweaty scalp, still grinning, then grabbed his towel to dry off and flicked Thor’s at his head. He caught sight of Tony, alone at the other side of the gym and waved.

“She sure is something. Don’t think anyone else could have got Bucky back the way she did,” Steve commented absently. Thor hummed in agreement.

Tony’s cheeks were flushed underneath his olive skin and his eyes bright, his hair slightly tousled, loose and curling from the salt in his sweat. Damn, he was beautiful; Steve’s heart swelled a little just looking at him, and he really would look amazing with Bucky.

Thor clasped Steve on the shoulder and they shared a smile as Tony started to walk over. The warm weight was solid and firm, just like it had been when Thor had him pinned down. Sparring with Thor was always nice. It was the one time that Steve didn’t have to hold back or worry about hurting his partner; even in a fight, he had to work hard not to kill anyone.

“That was some pretty intense ground work, you having fun?” Tony asked, cocking his head.

“Always. Been working on the pins Nat showed us; translating from,” he gestured at her rough height, “to this brute is a mission of its own.”

“Watch your tongue, mortal,” Thor added, bumping Steve halfway over with a friendly shoulder. “You wait to meet Lady Sif before you say such things.”

“You gotta get her down here, Thor; see how her version of those stories go,” Steve said, recovering his balance with a few steps and a shrug.

Thor gave a half bow, then bent further to grab his water bottle, completely spoiling the gesture. “Mortal minds cannot fathom the depths of such tales. I will ask again, as always.”

Steve dithered at his own pile of belongings, sitting on the bench and picking at his knuckle wrappings. If he went ahead and showered, he’d lose this feeling, the warmth and relaxed muscles, and stew over telling Tony about Buck. Time to rip the plaster off, it probably wouldn’t even hurt. He wasn’t a jealous guy, mostly.

“That’s all I can ask, Thor. Give us some warning before they turn up, I’ll have a hog roast set up or something. Lebkuchen?”

Thor laughed and clapped Tony on the shoulder. “I am sure you will stage a mighty feast. Please excuse me, however; I believe I am needed in the showers.”

“You go, buddy. You... do that,” Tony murmured after him, watching him go. “Did he just...?”

“He usually does. They hang around on sparring days,” Steve answered with a bright blush. They didn’t always make it to their floor, and Jane made the most amazing noises. “Hey, Tony, can I talk to you for a second?”

Tony blinked, turning back to him and fixing him will all nine gigawatts of his attention. Jhesus. Steve swallowed and smiled weakly.

“I heard you talking about, uh, pass lists. I just wanted to say that, um. Bucky’s on my pass list, for you. If you want.” He hid his face behind the guise of drying off, draping the towel over his head. There, that was it, done with. Steve did his best to breathe, muscles tensed as he waited for Tony’s answer.

Tony’s hand came to his shoulder, forcing him to show his face. “Likewise, actually,” Tony said, rocking back on his heels and grinning down at him, “but I was gonna add ‘Thor’ too. Because you two have something, be a shame not to take advantage. I mean, you and Bucky are like the last Centurion and the Pandorica, but you look like you could do with letting some steam off,” Tony was speaking a mile a minute now and Steve just looked on in shock but the words just kept coming out, each one more confusing than the last, “and Thor seems to do a good job opening that valve on you, at least until we work out how Bucky fits into our--, uh, everything. Bed? I mean, we might need a bigger one of those--”

“Tony, babe, I-- give me a second.” Steve’s head was whirling, not even touching the baffling reference for now. Tony thought he and Bucky-- Sequentially? Would they take turns? His thoughts went from bemused to holding his breath in about half a second at the idea of Buck’s handprints layering up with his on Tony’s hips.

“Fuck--” Steve’s eyes were wide and down and his pants suddenly tight. “That’s-- really?” He looked up to Tony’s kind face. “How would that even...”

“Work? Thor, or Bucky? Because Thor’s actually pretty simple, I think. He knows the drill and he’s full of love, compassion, etcetera...”

“I mean Bucky, I’m not-- uh, attracted to Thor. At all.” Steve didn’t mention how comfortable being held down had made him, because it felt like a whole different... thing.

“Bucky’s your guy, the guy you’ve known forever and trusted for even longer,” Tony said, serious but not...dour. Eager. “It’ll work however we work it out. I mean, it’s not like anyone would notice if the three of us went out to dinner, as long as we kept it clean.”

“ _Dinner!?_ ” Steve got up and started pacing, needing to let off energy _somewhere_. “Tony, that’s not just letting off steam!”

Tony took a step forward, arm extended. “Steve, I know how you feel about Bucky, I know we’re not talking about one night threesomes here--”

“ _Threesomes?!_ ” Steve squeaked, abruptly pulling the towel off his head, aghast.

“...okay, roll it back, what were you talking about?” Tony said, politely confused. _Politely,_ the world was coming apart around his ears.

“I don’t know, I thought you and Buck might... have, you know. I was gonna draw it, uh, theoretically, and leave it in the workshop,” Steve managed, acutely embarrassed. Tony stopped him mid-stride and laid his hand on Steve’s arm. He managed to take a deeper breath, sitting back down.

“Steve, nothing between me and you, me and James, or you and Bucky was ever going to be casual,” said Tony, joining him on the bench. “And while I know for a fact you would make beautiful art out of a down and dirty between me and James, and don’t think for a second I’d make you imagine it when I am a perfectly willing model; tie me up and cover me in spunk, honey, I don’t think that’s the best way of going about it.”

Steve choked, literally choked on his own spit and he could feel himself flushing an immediate tomato red. “ _Tony!”_

Tony had the temerity to grin at him and smack him on the back like that would help clear his throat. “Look, the point is, whatever combination we want to try for, I am game, as long as you’re right there with me. Watching, sketching, fucking, I don’t care, but I need you there.”

“Wow... Uh. I hadn’t... thought of it, like that. Wouldn’t that be...embarrassing?”

“What, because there’s one more set of eyes in the room?” Tony treated Steve to one of his filthier grins. “No, honey. Not embarrassing. Hot, yes. Incendiary, definitely. It’s not like I’ve ever been shy.”

Tony leaned up against him, solid and heavy enough that he had to adjust his posture. “But anyone with eyes can see that there is this big mountain of baggage between you and Bucky. I don’t want to become king and judge of that particular hill. You two go at your own pace. I don’t want to trigger anything, or stir anything up that isn’t ready to see daylight. I just wanted you to know so that if something did happen you’d know I was okay with it so it _could_ happen, without any of that self-torturing bullshit that goes around.”

Steve didn’t have an answer to that but maybe that was okay. There was an ache in his chest when he thought about...sleeping with, kissing Bucky, a Tony shaped hole full of anxiety. He frowned at his towel, twisted into a snarl in his hands. He felt fine with Tony and Bucky being together, but he wouldn’t want to...without Tony.

“I don’t want to take Buck out without you. At least, not for now. And I don’t wanna, uh, ‘stay in’ without you either. As for the rest...” Steve shrugged.

Tony stood and offered his hand, palm up. Steve slotted their fingers together, locking them palm to palm and allowed himself to be pulled up. “Together, then. At least for now. I can’t navigate these waters without you, Captain,” Tony said, putting on an awful pirate accent.

“Last pirate I met spoke Arabic, not badly accented English, Tony,” said Steve but he walked towards the change rooms, hand in hand with Tony.

“Hah, hah. I could have chosen Scottish, gone full blown Trek--”

“Please don’t?” Steve pleaded. They weren’t done talking and he didn’t want to have to do this again, soon.

“Hey, sure, babe,” said Tony, giving his neck a nuzzle. “If you’ve got more to say, I am ...mmm... twelve percent ears.”

Steve snorted before turning serious. “All this talk is a moot point if Bucky can’t stand to be in the same room as me.”

“Hey!” Tony exclaimed, looking affronted. “If you had a raging boner for your best-friend-since-childhood, died-for-my-sins, nominally _taken_ best friend, you would also vamoosh at the soonest opportunity.”

“Tony,” Steve snapped, grimacing and stepping back, just outside the door to the change rooms. “Be serious, here. He won’t let me touch him, he looks _empty_ when I get too close, the only time he smiles is when he’s with you or Nat!”

“Look, I’m not going to lie; it does seem like it’s hard for him to be near you,” retorted Tony, frustration finally breaking into his voice. “Super _hard_ , but also difficult emotionally.” He ran his fingers roughly through his hair. “But I’m serious about the self-denial aspect, okay? Natasha dropped a word in my ear earlier, so if you don’t trust me as a third party observer, trust her.”

Steve got into Tony’s space, feeling het up and aggressive enough that he diverted at the last second and leaned his forehead against the wall, hands trapped in his armpits so he didn’t haul off and punch it. “And do _what_ with that information, huh? Not only are we a bunch of queers, which is hard enough now, let alone when we come from, but we’d be a _menage à trois!_ It’s something out of a pulp! It’s absolute _insanity_.” Steve gave in and kicked the wall, which at least didn’t break his knuckles.

It also didn’t make him feel any better.

“I think,” Steve could hear the forced calm in Tony’s voice and had a brief moment of resentment for it, “Even if Bucky doesn’t take us up on the offer, even if he sticks to just Nat, he will be more comfortable knowing he’s allowed to feel, and even to _act_ _on_ his attraction! You don’t _see him_ when he knows you’re not looking, Steve! He loves you!”

Steve leaned against the wall with a groan. “I love him too, Tony, you know I do, but it doesn’t have to be...sexual--”

“But it can be, and you would be okay with that, too. Wouldn’t you?” Tony asked, so earnest that Steve’s throat tightened, and put both hands on Steve’s shoulders, squeezing but making no dent in those rock-hard muscles.

“Yes. Damnit, you are a corrupting influence, even Dugan would call this a terrible, awful, not very good at all idea. But, yes.” He took a deep breath and tilted his head back. “Damn that would be good.”

Tony bumped up against him. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, pressing a kiss to his (sweaty, disgusting,) temple.

“We haven’t even started on the hard part yet,” Steve replied, mournfully.

“C’mon, sourpatch. Showers, you are very manly right now, and I smell like fruit and we’ve been talking in front of them for the past ten minutes. Nothing seems as catastrophic after a shower.” Tony tugged at his arm until he followed him. “Tell me the worst part on the way.”

It took Steve until he’d put nearly everything away in his locker before he could bring himself to speak. “Actually talking to _Bucky_. Without making him run away and hide in his room for three days,” Steve said softly. He turned and wrapped himself around Tony’s back when he paused to do something at his locker.

“I don’t think we _can_ embarrass him, Steve. Did you see how he was walking this morning? _Someone_ gave him a thorough pegging and he wasn’t hiding it.”

Steve’s knees turned to jelly. “Dear God, really?” A wave of heat over his face told him he was blushing but whether it was the aforementioned embarrassment or the party in his pants was a complete mystery, even to him.

“Really, really. You, shower, now. I’ll be in in a second.” Tony shouldered him off towards the private shower rooms. Jane, Thor and Darcy were either locked in and quiet, or long gone, so Steve stripped down right there by the benches. Sometimes it almost embarrassed him how quickly Tony could turn him on. He was half hard and bobbing out in front as he chucked his sweaty clothes down the laundry chute.

“Be that as it may, Tony,” Steve called back. Tony had his head half in his locker, rummaging. “You didn’t see him after he had Eloise Midgen ride him behind the bleachers! He hid for three days!”

“You sure he wasn’t just whacking it off, Steve? I mean, I remember --aha!-- the first time someone rode me, and it was twenty five years ago, not _yesterday,”_ Tony called back, brandishing something victoriously.

“Huh.” That might explain a few things. He hit the shower tap and dredged up a few memories. “We did run out of socks pretty quick that week. I remember bitc-- uh, complaining about it.” Steve stuck his hand under the water to enjoy the cool while it started up.

Tony made a face at him as he stripped down, too. “If this were any other conversation, that would be so much TMI, but in context, I can’t complain.”

Steve snorted and reeled him in when he came in reach, his hand slipping on the grease all over Tony’s back. “Saw Darce giving you a massage, from between Thor’s knees. My life is...very strange.”

Tony tilted his head back and Steve kissed him obediently. “Would you like it to be normal?”

“No.”

“Good, ‘cause _someone_ remembered to get the silicon lube. In the shower, Steve, hut hut.”

Steve laughed, delighted, and danced away from the smack Tony aimed at his ass. “Is this what people do now, get turned on thinking about threesomes, then fuck in the shower?”

Tony smirked, pulling the door closed behind them and tossing the lube onto the cupboard. “Captain, I am _impressed_ , ‘threesome’ and ‘fuck’ in one sentence!”

Steve made a show of eyeing up the shower cubicle for places to fuck Tony. “Once ‘threesome’ has come outta my mouth, it’s hard to keep a lid on it. Gimmie a second and I’ll be able to tell you what surface I want to fuck you against first, too.”

Tony hmmmed and stood shoulder-to-bicep with him, also contemplating the options. After a second, they looked at each other and started laughing, tumbling against each other, cocks and legs an awkward tangle as they clung to each other.

“Sweet Mother, you have no idea how much of a relief that conversation was, is,” Steve whispered into Tony’s shoulder, smoothing his palm up that sinfully slick expanse of hot muscles.

“I can guess, honey,” Tony replied, softly, then more firmly; “I really can.”

Steve relaxed into him, face mashed into his neck and hands sliding down to his ass. His cock twitched at the slick of the massage oil, and then the lush promise of that ass, and he decided on the wall.

“We should get sweaty first, then shower. Efficiency,” Steve mumbled, open mouthed on Tony’s neck and half destroying the words by kissing it.

“Impatience. We should do both. Fuck in the actual shower, that’s why the lube’s silicon and not water based. Go on, in.”

Tony pushed him under the spray by walking forwards so their cocks and chests and legs all pressed and slid against each other. Steve resisted for a second, enjoying Tony’s body, and determination, as it slid over his, then conceded and stepped into the spray.

Warm, silky, heavy water beat down on his shoulders and he groaned in bliss. “You have the best ideas. The best showers, too.”

Tony smiled and kissed his throat as he tilted his head back into the water. “Of course I do, I’m _amazing_.” He patted Steve’s chest and backed off. “Though if I’d known that you only wanted me for my water pressure...” he trailed off, voice full of laughter.

“C’mere and be amazing,” Steve grouched, blindly groping for Tony’s body without coming out from under the spray. Instead, Tony put the bottle of lube in his hand, _then_ presented him with his ass.

“I considered doing it myself, but you do such a fantastic job.”

Steve smirked and turned his head out of the water, shaking his hair off his face. Tony had leant up against the wall, just out of the spray, his back shining with oil and muscles picked out in the warm light; god, that _ass_. He still had bruises, a dusty burgundy red now, and he’d canted his hips just right. Steve slotted himself up against it, cock sliding in his cleft and chest against his perfect back. His hand slid easily around to Tony's chest, palms rubbing over his pecs, then down to his hips, pulling him back tight against Steve’s cock.

“Damn right I do, this ass is mine for the next...” Steve paused, sucking on the back of Tony’s neck, wet and sloppy with tongue. “At least an hour.”

“Jhesus, Steve. Yes, I am go on ‘one hour’ mission start.” Tony groaned and arched his back, rubbing along the length of Steve’s cock and pressing his bruises against the hold Steve had on his hips.

“You have no idea,” Tony gasped, interrupted by the hard rub of Steve’s thumb along the crease of his hip. “-- _no_ idea how evil D and Jane are. I am... Ahh!” Steve smirked and let go of Tony’s cock after giving it one dry pump. “I am so ready, Steve, note for the future; thinking about you and Thor sparring while...ah, uh, th-- th-- ladies-- Ah!”

Steve rubbed his knuckle up behind Tony’s balls and that _really_ took his breath away, sending his hips hitching back into Steve’s, then thrusting forward into the reach-around. “Shhh... shh, babe, they’ll hear us,” Steve whispered.

“You fucking liar, these rooms are soundproof,” Tony managed, glaring over his shoulder then melting when Steve used the hand still holding the lube to twist his chin around far enough to kiss the air out of him.

“Not to my ears they’re not,” he announced as he leaned back, pulling his hands away so he could actually put the lube to use. Tony slumped against the tile and spread his legs just right. Steve paused to whisper into Tony’s ear, “Or Thor’s, I bet.”

“You fucking tell me that now?” Tony grouched, closing his eyes and relaxing from the nape of his neck to his twitching hole. Neat damn trick, that; Steve’s cock twitched. He squirted the thick, waterproof lube onto the dip in Tony’s back --“You bastard, you’re in charge of cleaning that off,” Tony muttered-- and dragged two fingers through it to coat Tony’s entrance.

“Tony, once I’m done here, I’m gonna be _carrying_ you to bed, so yes, I will take full respons--” He pushed against Tony’s hole and it yielded easily, wrapping his fingers in scorching heat and pressure. “--ibility.”

“You... ahhh you fucker, that was more than I was expecting.”

“And yet, you’ve taken it like a champ. I don’t think I need to do any prep, I’ll just slide right in, huh? All fucked out still, aren’t you.” He scissored his fingers to make his point, spreading them steadily and stretching Tony out to the max of what his muscles would currently take. Steve was exaggerating for effect; he was still way too tight, but he was taking two fingers easily and pushing back hard for more. “Or I could drag it out. Wouldn’t want you coming before I’ve had at least two goes at this.” He swatted Tony’s ass with his free hand, then twisted his hand over and crooked his fingers down, right into Tony’s prostate, just as he clenched up.

Tony _howled_. Somewhere in there was a swear word, and Steve’s name, but Steve grinned and didn’t let up the pressure until Tony managed to put enough syllables to actually yell at him.

“Fuck you Captain Rogers! Fuck you and your fucking patience-- I am ready, fuck me through the god damn wall if you want, I don’t care, just, _now_.”

Steve smiled indulgently, which got him a solid glare, and worked at getting Tony properly stretched without any more teasing.

“Uh-uh-huh, that’s right,” Tony grunted out in time to Steve’s careful strokes against his prostate, pushing back against his fingers and settling himself against the wall so the water ran over his shoulder and down his back. “Back to work, soldier.” Steve snorted disbelievingly and pulled back from his prostate to work just Tony’s rim, courting an inevitable whine. “Steve, you bastard I need you in me, not frolicking around the back door. You weren’t serious about an hour, were you?”

Well, no, he wasn’t, they had to get to dinner, and he wanted to enjoy the afterglow in bed, but Tony was an absolute sucker for a marathon. Even the idea was a massive turn on. “Well now you’ve said that, I really am gonna take my time.” Steve pressed a smacking kiss to the back of Tony’s shoulder, letting him feel the smirk plastered all over his face, before dropping to his knees on the tiles. He pulled his fingers out of Tony's hole --the angle was awkward from here-- and switched to giving the muscle gentle strokes with his thumb, watching it twitch open and close from his new vantage point.

Tony started whimpering with each teasing stroke, soft, unashamed noises of appreciation as he tried to be patient.

“Steveeee, you wanna-- please, Steve, c’mon,” Tony gave in at last, and Steve grinned; since they were in the shower already, why ever not?

“Pull those cheeks apart, Tony and give yourself a good wash,” he ordered smacking Tony lightly on one thigh and leaning over to grab the soap.

Tony shuffled from foot to foot in anticipation but he did as he was told and spread his cheeks with one hand, exposing himself to Steve’s admiring eye. He scrubbed his hole with his fancy soap and very little patience while Steve waited, watching Tony’s knees shake with the stimulation, the water pouring over his head like a rainstorm.

“I’d have done this before you started lubing me up, if I’d known,” Tony managed, cutting himself off with a whine when his finger slipped into his loose hole accidentally.

“It pays to be adaptable on these things, Tony, rinse, before you set yourself off.”

Tony grumbled but rinsed thoroughly and then returned to spreading himself open in front of Steve, his hole pink and flushed. Steve watched for a second as the muscles blinked open and closed, as Tony tried to stay loose against his body’s natural tendency to close up. Steve slid his hands up the back of Tony’s thighs, all the way up over his ass, over the dents in the muscle where Tony was holding himself open for him, and finally, as Tony started pushing his ass back in desperation, touched his hole again, teasing at the edge with his thumb. Tony’s muscles sucked at him and Steve had to take a second to stop himself from standing up and rutting against it until he came all over Tony’s back. Tempting as the thought was, he had other, better plans. The kind of plans that always sent Tony wild, dragging him out into a live wire of frothing impatience and need.

“God, you’re just begging to be filled up down here, Tony,” Steve said, with a chuckle. “Should keep you plugged up some weekend, fuck you whenever I want.”

Tony whipped his head around to glare at Steve. “You’re such a horrible tease. Can’t fucking believe the things you do with that mouth. Speaking of, you gonna get on with it anytime today?” he whined, turning back to the wall and dropping his forehead on his arm with a whimper.

Steve knelt back on his feet, patient and smirking, his index finger now tracing delicate patterns around the rim, revelling in every twitch, every full body shiver. Fuck, Tony was beautiful like this.

“Come on Steve, please,” Tony hesitated the way he always did, working himself up to it. He could come out with all sorts of oblique dirty talk in public that had Steve blushing and praying that no one else would cotton on, but this, this he hesitated in. “You gonna make me say it, Cap?” he panted, wriggling his hips, trying to fuck himself on Steve’s finger.

“Say it, Tony. You can have anything you want, just tell me,” he promised, leaning forwards and nuzzling against Tony’s left butt cheek and delicately licking at Tony’s fingertips, a full four inches away from where Tony wanted it, and pressed lightly on his entrance. Tony was so turned on, and still so slick with silicone lube just inside, that Steve’s fingertip slipped inside effortlessly.

“Please put your gorgeous tongue on my hole, Steve, I want it, I need you to fuck me with it--” He started thrusting into the air, clenching on Steve’s fingers even as Steve drew them back out. Steve squeezed the base of his own cock, enjoying the sensation of denying himself even though he’d be up for round two plenty soon enough for Tony, and needing the help to resist.

 

With another look and squeeze Steve replaced his fingers with his tongue. Hotter, rougher than his fingers, Tony reacted to it with a jolt, moaning into his arm and arching his back. Steve laved up and down the twitching muscles with a broad, warm tongue, covering every inch with heat and spit. He could feel Tony clenching helplessly on nothing, his soft moans slowly building, his knees growing softer and more shaky. He gripped Tony’s hips with hands, rubbing with his thumb at the old marks, and kept him on his feet with brute strength. Tony whined, half in pain, half in pleasure, and completely helpless beneath Steve. He gave a firm suck and Tony howled, surging against Steve’s hands.

“Fuck, Steve, please, please more. Fuck, you fucking bastard--”

Steve repeated the trick and Tony’s swearing dissolved into mutterings, helplessly scratching at his own buttocks with his hands, begging for more. Steve gave his own cock another quick grasp before settling his grip on Tony’s hips more firmly, and then switched to using the firm tip of his tongue, alternating from tracing teasing patterns that made Tony wiggle and whimper with firm thrusts that had Tony surging to the tips of his toes in surprise, even though Steve did it every single time they had the time to do this.

Steve loved it, the way he could play Tony like a violin from here; he knew the reaction every little stroke would provoke, every little sound Tony would make. His right hand dropped from Tony’s hip to his own cock, thick and tall, to give it a few firm strokes, languidly taking the edge off while he fucked Tony with his tongue, the wet sounds mixing with Tony’s mutterings.

“Steve,” Tony breathed out, fingers adjusting on his buttock and twitching his hips back. “I need you to fuck me, Steve.”

Steve responded with a firm slap on his right cheek, leaving a satisfyingly vivid, red handprint, but not taking his tongue off Tony to tell him off.

“Fuck, Steve,” cried Tony. “Fuck, please, Steve, please…”

His begging crescendoed Steve switched to pressing at his hole with the firm top of his tongue in rhythm, pressing the muscles loose without penetrating. Tony’s begging grew more and more wrecked under Steve’s ministrations and Steve reveled in the feeling of doing just as he wished, heat and power settling into his bones, stoking his own fire.

Tony always begged, even though he knew it would slow things down, drag things out, unable to help himself and always, _always_ loving the end result. Mentally Steve adjusted his estimate of this to something closer to two hours. They could spend the last half hour lazing in bed before heading down to dinner. He could do those reports later.

By the time he was satisfied, spit and slick dripping down his chin, Tony was leaning heavily against the wall, hand shaking with the effort of keeping himself open and other arm trembling against the tile. Steve gave one final lick, unable to restrain himself any longer and stood up, rinsing out his mouth and lips with water from the shower. He pulled Tony around, muscling him to face him and pressing kisses against his neck, hands sliding down his back to toy with his ass and press their aching cocks together.

Lazily, fingers dipping into Tony’s body, he sucked a mark into Tony’s neck, below the line of his collar, enjoying the taste of his skin and the heavy feeling of possession. Tony’s hands wrapped into his hair, pulling him in harder for a moment before he relaxed some, melting into Steve’s arms and taking the breather for what it was. Under Steve’s fingers, his hole opened slightly and Steve slipped a finger inside, stroking the slick flesh just inside. The sounds of Steve’s wet, sloppy marking filled the room. God, he sounded filthy like this and for a moment he wished that Thor, Darcy and Jane were listening. The following suck had teeth and Tony hissed in response. Steve returned to the lighter licking, surprised by the thought. Maybe Tony had been right and once his mind had opened to the possibility, it would just go wild.

He finished the mark with a kiss like a benediction (the frisson of blasphemy). Tony was looking down at him, eyes slightly more with it, soft smile on his face.

“That mark dark enough for you, soldier?” God, that smile–

Steve answered with a firm kiss, pressing into Tony’s welcoming lips and thrusting his tongue inside his mouth, the similarity enough to make Tony writhe against his front. He leaned in heavily out of self defence, sandwiching him between the wall and Steve’s own weight so he couldn’t rub their cocks together and set either of them off too soon. He took his fingers away, too; obviously Tony needed some motivation to behave.

Tony though, he knew exactly what Steve was trying to do, and he wasn’t having it. While Steve was distracted with the whimpers he could force out of Tony with his tongue, Tony's hand sneaked slowly down Steve’s back and took a firm grab of Steve’s behind, squeezing suggestively. Steve broke away, leaning his forehead against Tony’s to take a moment to just breathe. Tony’s eyelashes were jeweled with drops of water, fluttering against his cheeks as he made eye contact, pupils blown. “Appreciating the fruits of my labours?” Steve asked.

Tony’s hand began kneading Steve’s ass firmly. “Don’t you know it,” he said with a dazed smirk.

Steve smiled and pressed his lips to Tony’s again, less frantically this time. He reached up to twist Tony’s nipple and Tony’s mouth opened in response. Steve swallowed Tony’s moan and slipped in his tongue, brushing Tony’s and rippling it in promise. Tony pulled their hips together, trapping their cocks in the hot, slick space between them and Steve stilled for a fraction of a second, mind washed away and losing track of his hands and feet.

Growling and laughing just enough to light a spark in Tony’s eyes, Steve abandoned his grip on Tony’s ass, grasping their cocks in his palm and spreading the precum between them with his thumb. The water washed it away a touch faster that he’d like, leaving too much friction between them, but neither were quite able to care, too busy gasping out breaths and moans and names, too caught up in the familiar taste of each other and the feeling of each other’s body. Anyway, the rough edge of friction made it real, bringing them up and into each other each time it got too much.

Eventually, they broke apart for breath and Steve gave in and grabbed the bottle of lube from the shelf. Their hair was each plastered against their scalps, their skin flushed and glowing with sweat and water. Steve pushed one of the thick strands of Tony’s hair out of his face and got a grip on the rest, pulling his head back to expose his neck to more lavish kisses. He congratulated himself on having the coordination to pour a good helping of lube straight onto their cocks at the same time and, dropping the bottle to the tile, took them both in hand.

He worked his own foreskin up and down, occasionally catching Tony’s foreskin-free cock with it and making him jolt. Their hips settled quickly in their usual rhythm. Steve had a twist he added every few strokes that he never used on himself alone but brought Tony almost to his knees each time. He looked up from their cocks, into Tony’s warm eyes, so full of trust, and couldn’t quite believe his luck that he had this man in front of him, looking at him this way. Steve watched as the eyes got a sparkle of a plan and then Tony started digging his nails harder into the flesh of Steve's butt with each twist, even though his eyelids fluttered with each of them.

“I thought you said I’d be getting a fucking, Steve,” said Tony, in a voice as warm and thick as honey.

Steve looked up with heavy eyes. “Actually, I said you’d be getting two.”

Tony’s breath hitched and his cock jumped in Steve’s hand. “You gonna get onto that any time soon, honey?”

“You bored, babe?” Steve chose that particular moment to give their cocks a twist and Tony moaned. “Guess I’ll just have to try harder.”

“Cheater,” Tony managed to get out a few moments later.

Steve chuckled into his skin, still working their cocks together. “Up against the wall?”

Tony moaned again, dropping his head onto Steve’s shoulder and watching their cocks appear and disappear into Steve’s fist. “You undo Darcy’s massage and I will make you smell like flowers for a week.”

Steve laughed into Tony’s shoulder, breathing rough with holding back. “What’s wrong with flowers?” Tony huffed and Steve couldn’t help the smile that spilled over his face. “Don’t worry, Tony, I know you’ve been at the desk a lot this week, I’ll be carefull.”

Tony looked a bit put out for a moment longer before he nodded. “Up against the wall. Jhesus Christ, someone’s going to think we drowned in here.”

“You know how much I love infinite hot water, Tony; shoulda put a timer on it,” he teased, twisting again and rubbing at the head of Tony’s cock with his thumb.

Tony groaned and pushed his hand off their cocks, gripping his own, hard, to stave off coming. “And miss out on this? _Never._ ”

“Turn around for a bit, I just wanna...” He slid his hand, slick with lube down Tony’s crack and Tony turned, giving Steve access enough to push two fingers into his loose hole. Tony’s eyes practically rolled back in his head and his knees shook. Steve grabbed for more lube and poured more over his cock, and his hand, and gently pushed a third finger into Tony.

“Fucking boy scout; I’m prepared, I was prepared half an hour ago--” He cut off in favour of moaning as Steve spread his fingers _just_ wide enough to test whether Tony was ready for his cock. God, he felt good on his _fingers_ , Steve wasn’t going to last three seconds with his cock in this ass.

Fortunately, he was so turned on that wouldn’t be a lasting problem.

He slowly fucked his fingers in and out, watching Tony’s back bow and stretch with the pleasure, until there really wasn’t any resistance left and Tony was making wordless noises of need. He slid his fingers free to a disappointed whine, and turned Tony around. Loose limbed, Tony draped his arms over Steve’s shoulders and lifted his knee. Steve got a good grip on a meaty thigh and Tony’s ass, and lifted him up, pressing his back flat against the wall. Tony’s other leg came up, squeezing tight over Steve’s hips, but Steve was a little preoccupied. His cock lined up along Tony’s crack, like this, Tony's balls resting on Steve’s shaft and lube and precome mixing into a slick, irresistable mess.

He lined himself up with his free hand, holding all of Tony’s weight on his hips, and pushed. Oh god, just the head, just the tip, for now, holy fucking--

Tony moaned, hand tight on the nape of Steve’s neck and clinging on for dear life as his body pulled Steve inside, tight despite everything, and silken, liquid heat. Tony pushed at his shoulder and, dazed, Steve loosened his grip slightly. More fucking idiot he; Tony lowered himself on Steve’s cock, swallowing him up all at once and crying out, back arching and ass clenching down hard.

Steve adjusted his grip and shifted the angle so that he could start to thrust up into Tony. Fuck, how could anyone feel this good every fucking time? He could feel Tony’s nails digging into his shoulder muscles, palms slipping in the water as he worked to hold on. There was a moment of awkwardness as they both thrust in opposite directions, coordination and rhythm totally off but then Tony paused and Steve started up again, pushing his hips up into Tony’s. A few thrusts in, Tony joined him, now perfectly on rhythm.

Steve leaned his head on Tony’s chest, the fruity smell having given away to Tony’s sweat and lube and sex, and groaned. “Damn it, Tony, I’m not gonna last, you feel amazing, the shower feels amazing; ten-- ten outta ten, would fuck here again.”

Tony choked out a laugh, tilting his head back against the tiles and shifting his grip to the back of Steve’s neck. “I feel amazing? _You_ feel-- Does the US military know about your cock? You could-- end, end, all war-- you--”

“Goddamn, I hope not,” he panted, thrusting up sharply exactly where Tony needed it and making him squeal. “This, this is all yours.”

“And Bucky’s?” Tony asked, fingers digging into Steve’s hair and holding a touch too tight and just perfect.

A shot of heat ripped through his gut, punching a wordless noise out of his mouth. “ _Yes._ Fuck, _Tony_ , you play dirty.”

Tony rolled out his best smirk and a lascivious twist of his hips, started twisting down onto Steve’s cock. Of course, it pulled them out of sync but there was no way that Steve was stopping to catch the rhythm again. Instead, he pinned Tony to the wall and thrust up, hard, over and over, losing himself in the sensations of Tony around his cock and in his arms. He could feel himself alternating between sweet nothings and swear words but it faded into the background in favor of the sounds that Tony was making.

One of Tony’s hands slipped down Steve’s chest, to the junction between them. Tony touched the base of Steve’s cock, traced where they joined, and Steve stared down at the perfect contrast of olive-tan skin and irish white, so turned on he had to stop thrusting, just-- just to catch his breath. Tony laughed, tightening around him and covered his own hand in the mixture of lube, sweat and precum seeping out between them before taking himself in hand.

He gave a little sigh and whimpered, touching himself delicately; Steve knew this dance, Tony trying to hold off until Steve had come at least once, trying to keep up with a supersoldier. But he didn’t last, he never did, and started jerking himself off as fast as he could, too caught up in the pleasure of it all to help himself.

Grinning, determined, Steve readjusted Tony’s hips and thrust up, knowing that he’d be hitting Tony’s prostate at this angle and wanting him to come and clench around him. Tony cried out, muscles contracting as he curled around Steve before he started on himself even more vigorously than before. He squeezed his eyes closed until desperate tears dripped down his face but Steve knew not to let up, pushing him harder against the wall.

Needy and _hungry,_ he pressed his lips somewhere near where Tony’s own should be, pressing filth and beauty into each other’s skin, not so much kissing as gasping into each other. Tony started shaking, unable to do much more than murmur Steve’s name back, hands clenching into Steve’s back, his hole suddenly holding on to Steve’s cock hard. Steve could feel the spurts coating their stomachs and he buried himself in the rippling, clenching heat, needing to get as deep into Tony as possible.

Slowly Tony relaxed in his arms, breaths lengthening out and Steve started thrusting in long and deep strokes that had Tony shivering with overstimulation. Steve thrust until he all he could remember was that he needed to hold Tony up while he gave himself over to the pleasure of the moment, the smell of them together, the feeling of Tony -- and then he was gone and it was like forever and no time at all.

Slowly, he came back to himself, strokes slowing to nothing until he was left breathing hard against Tony’s damp skin, still joined at the hips. He adjusted his grip, hugging Tony against him and tasting his skin, panting into the hot, bare spaces between them.

“H’w’s your back?” he asked finally, looking up at Tony’s rosy face with what he _knew_ , with the absolute familiarity of an asshole boyfriend who took post-coital photos, was an absolutely ridiculous smile.

Tony chuckled, sinking deeper into the embrace. “Fuck, Steve,” he breathed out, laughter vibrating against Steve’s chest. “Don’t care.”

Steve pulled Tony’s hair away from his face and kissed his forehead before gently lifting him off of Steve’s cock. They both shivered; Steve was still hard, and _large_. He kept Tony in his arms as Tony struggled to regain his footing on the floor, not trusting his legs for a moment and leaning them heavily against the wall. Steve stayed pressed against him, his still-hard cock nestled in the crook of Tony’s hips, for another few moments, unable to do more than breathe.

The direction of the water changed and Steve looked up to see Tony fiddling with the shower head. He watched dazedly as the water washed away the better part of the mess between them, then played tantalizingly over his cock.

“Still want that timer on the hot water?” murmured Tony smugly.

Steve moaned halfheartedly, closing his eyes against the dual sensation of Tony’s body and the water. “Wanna stay in here all day, ‘s a bad habit.” He ignored the spray, snuggling deeper into Tony and lapping at the curve of his neck, measuring the heat of him and the throb of his heart with his tongue.

They sank down onto the warm tiles together, giving up on standing and their legs tangling in a slick mess until Tony was sprawled over Steve’s thighs, slick and come sliding out of him onto Steve’s skin. Steve returned the favor, directing some water over Tony’s ass and making him shudder as it washed over sensitized, heated skin. The warm water was priceless, they’d definitely have run out anywhere else by now; it poured around them, soothing away sweat and the smell of sex. Steve brushed half heartedly at his face with his palm, clearing the worst of the sweat away but unable to get up the energy to reach for a cloth. He did the same for Tony, smoothing away water droplets at first, then touching for the joy of it, lingering over the corner of his mouth and lavishing attention on his high cheekbones. He admired Tony through soft eyes, each blink slow, and wound his arms around Tony’s waist, his hand a warm weight around Steve’s shoulder in return.

“Whatcha think, love,” Steve murmured, almost against Tony’s skin, unable to pull away even for a moment. “I still have some use in me,” he drawled lazily, running his fingers down Tony’s chest and across a nipple to the mess lingering on Tony’s stomach, watching it swirl away.

Tony leaned in, pressing a long kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Think I’d better do something about that right here. wouldn’t want you to have to cover up such a beautiful, hard cock when I could just...” his hand slipped down Steve’s chest, tweaking a nipple in what was _definately_ revenge, before ghosting over his cock. “Easier to clean up, too.”

Steve chuckled, catching Tony’s lips with his own and treating them both to a long and slow kiss. “Who are you and where’s Tony? That was almost _sensible_.”

Tony huffed in affront and tweaked Steve’s other nipple, making his cock, and most of the rest of him, jerk with the bright shot of sensation down his spine. “I can be sensible. And plan things.”

“Uh, huh,” Steve said, mocking him with false disbelief and pulling him close, Tony’s inner thighs sinfully soft on his hips, until Steve could get a little friction where he needed it. He slid his hands down Tony’s back to palm his perfect ass, stretched wide over his legs, and arched his back to sandwich them together from cocks to collarbones. Tony groaned and swiveled his hips, pulling a groan of heartfelt appreciation out of Steve before latching on to his neck and giving him a quick and dirty lovebite that had Steve’s hands shaking as he held on tight.

Tony broke away for air, leaning against Steve’s forehead. “Don’t be getting any ideas, supersoldier,” he murmured, shifting his ass out of Steve’s grip just enough to make his point before letting Steve kiss him back and pour all the helpless pleasure back into him, to burn away the spaces in between them.

“I know, Tony,” he said softly when he pulled back. It didn’t matter that Tony wouldn’t, couldn’t take it for a few hours, wouldn’t get, ah, physically hard, they’d have fun anyways. Steve knew Tony worried sometimes, but he knew the cure for that, wasn’t complicated. You had to be selfish, sure, and that never came natural to Steve, but he was a big fella, he could take it.

He pressed a thumb against Tony’s kiss darkened lips, making deep, pointed eye contact that made Tony’s eyelids droop sensuously, his lips slacken, and Tony opened his mouth. Steve drew his lip down, slickening Tony’s bottom lip with a slow sweep and Tony’s tongue darted out to lick at the tip, eyes dark with mischief before he took it into his mouth and gave it a very thorough suck, his tongue making obscene patterns over the pad of his thumb.

Steve nuzzled in to kiss the corner of his mouth, shivering at the way Tony’s lips moved under his as they sucked and licked. “Just...like that,” he murmured, leaning back against the tile. “You don’t gotta,” he added, knowing Tony was sore and still deeply relishing the afterglow, but Tony pulled off his thumb with a satisfying pop.

“It’s not exactly a chore, beloved. Don’t hold back.”

Steve laughed and shifted, turning the shower off so Tony wouldn’t get a faceful of the water sheeting over Steve’s chest. “I won’t. You’re too damn good to me, Tony, too damn good.”

“Sure I am, only the best for you.” Tony kneeled up, stretching his back and exposing his abs to Steve’s insatiable touch; Steve didn’t resist, hands sliding over olive skin and reveling in the shift and slide of muscle and bone. Eventually, Tony slipped out of reach and eeled his way between Steve’s legs, sprawled on the tiles and grinning, hands sliding up Steve’s legs and sending sparks right into his cock. God _damn._

Tony teased bites up his leg that had Steve shivering and drawing in ever shallower breaths as Tony got closer and closer to his cock, each biting kiss more lavish and leisurely than the last. He stopped a good four inches from where Steve needed him and looked up at Steve with a lopsided smirk that did as much for Steve’s cock as the sight of Tony naked; god forbid the bastard ever used it in public, Steve would go to his knees for that smile...

“Having fun, Steve?” Tony asked, hands sliding up his inner thighs and soaking in the shape of them. Steve always trembled when Tony was like this, it felt like Tony was keeping every curve and soft place safe in his mind, a glowing blue model of everything that made Steve feel good. He followed his fingers with his tongue, cool compared to the water and Steve’s furnace metabolism, and Steve didn’t even try to restrain the blissed sigh that bubbled up from his diaphragm.

Steve chuckled when he had the air, winding hands into Tony’s short curls and tugging gently, holding on for dear sanity. Tony arched into the sensation, pulling against Steve’s grip before stretching up to nip at Steve’s nipple. Now Steve was the one to arch, the warmth of Tony’s mouth a contrast with the sharpness of his teeth and each one making the other better. He could feel Tony’s clever fingers playing with his other nipple before he switched and fuck, how did Tony do it every fucking time? He clenched at Tony’s hair by instinct but already Tony was trailing nails down Steve’s side, making Steve shiver, and then his mouth was sucking and biting its way down Steve’s stomach. Steve could feel the muscles fluttering, just as helpless to control them as the fingers in Tony’s hair, as Tony played Steve’s body like he was one of his engines.

Steve’s hips thrust up of their own accord, breath coming in pants as Tony moved ever closer but never quite got there, the fucking tease. At last his hands slipped over Steve’s hips, pinning him to the tile with his whole upper bodyweight, his thumbs teasing the thin, hypersensitive skin just above his cock.

“You’re too goddamn good at this, Tony, fuck,” he gasped, one hand slipping out of Tony’s hair and down his back, compulsively stroking the slick, golden skin before needing to hold onto something took over and he clutched at Tony’s hair again.

“Practice–” said Tony smugly, and then he leaned down and slid over Steve’s cock, swallowing it deep; warm, tight heat around Steve, the back of his throat fluttering against the tip of Steve’s cock. It punched a wordless yell out of him, a moan, a scream, and _god_ he was going to come, just from the feel of Tony swallowing around him, from the spasming of his throat--

Tony pulled off with a slick pop, dragging his tongue all the way to the tip and licking up the helpless surge of precome. The air was suddenly cold and Steve whined, thrust up, needing to be in him again, needing– Tony pulled away his head away, denying him. “–makes perfect.”

“Wha-- ngh, _Tony,_ c’m back, god, I need you, please...” This man, this man, he was going to die at this rate, ignobly on the floor of a shower cubicle. “Tony,” he ground out. “Put your fucking mouth back on my motherfucking cock.”

“Language!” Tony said with a grin. Steve groaned and leaned his head back against the tile. Steve had made the mistake of lecturing the team about proper language early on and ever since Tony had found about about his own, admittedly foul, mouth he hadn’t let it go. He’d even implemented a swear jar and the only person who’d put in more than Steve was Buck.

Now a finger was deftly drawing patterns on his cock, spiraling up and up and ever closer to his head. He needed Tony, he needed– “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Tony raised his eyebrows even higher. “That’s another ten dollars, captain,” he said, his voice disappointed but teasing.

Steve felt his cock twitch at the title and watched as Tony grinned down at his reaction.

“Well, _captain_ , if you insist so, I guess I can…”

His mouth came down in a slow, measured arc, licking his lips and making a show of slackening his jaw. Steve knew exactly what that would feel like and the anticipation was winding him tight enough to snap. Steve couldn’t watch, he’d come before Tony even-- He looked away, screwing his eyes shut to feel it _more,_ but instead of enveloping Steve’s cock, Tony traced his hot, let lips along the side, not quite touching it but brushing it enough to make him groan.

“T-tony, you utter bastard.” He couldn’t take it, he _couldn’t,_ he was gonna pop.

Tony laughed at him, hot breath teasing over his dripping cock and rippling to cold when Tony pulled back to lick his lips and smirk. Steve growled and shoved him back down, but Tony wasn’t having it, alternating teasing licks with little flashes of sharp teeth.

It was absolute torture.

Steve felt his eyes fluttering, couldn’t focus on anything but the maddening, unpredictable touch of that wonderful, sinful mouth. His breath stuttered, chest locking up and sweat dampening his brow, hips twitching helplessly under Tony’s hands. His grip twisted hard in Tony’s hair, but he didn’t pull, he-- He needed, he needed–

Tony dug his fingers into Steve’s hips and in the next moment Steve’s cock was sucked into that hot, wet, glorious mouth of his, clever tongue playing along the length of it, a deep suction drawing him ever deeper, starting him on that downward precipice. A nimble finger teased at his hole, rubbing firmly just behind his balls and the heat built, greater and greater with every coordinated move that Tony made. Steve’s hand started to shake and he brushed a thumb along Tony’s temple unable to keep from _touching_ , everywhere he could reach, even though he had to be so, _so_ careful not to hurt him when he came. He stammered a warning, gasped it when the air felt thin compared to the irresistible, white hot thrum in his belly.

He had to look, had to see, even knowing that would set him off, it was too late to resist-- Tony’s bright eyes caught him, Steve didn’t think he could ever look into them enough; Tony contained worlds, a whole universe, even here, mouth stretched and pink over Steve’s cock--

He snapped, control pinwheeling away and leaving him holding Tony desperately over his cock while he came again, his whole body alive with electric pleasure and shuddering into his mouth.

Slowly the surge of pleasure morphed into a gentle wave, a wave of sleepy lassitude and the distant need to hold Tony for eternity. He could feel Tony, a gentle warmth between his legs, his weight holding Steve firmly in place. His own arms felt like jelly and his legs were a distant, tingly presence. His eyes fluttered open to check Tony over, just, just in case --he was _strong,_ and coming was like falling down a mountain, needing to grab hold of _something_ on the way down-- but he couldn’t look away from the hint of pink tongue cleaning come off Tony’s lips.

He made an ignoble noise and his cock gave a feeble last spurt, which Tony leaned in to lick up, casual as you please. Steve’s face was warm enough to fry an egg, captivated by the shift of Tony’s throat that meant he’d swallowed that last drop.

He tilted Tony’s chin up with a wobbly hand, fingertips stroking down the tendons of his throat where beard transitioned into silky smooth skin, and checked for bruises he hadn’t meant to leave. He loved, with all the restrained lust in his enhanced, randy new body, the swell of blood underneath a love bite, or the splay of his fingers picked out in dusky red bruises, but he couldn’t be careless with it.

Tony’s neck and face were smooth, the only mark the lovebite he’d sucked into place earlier. He gave in and admired it for a moment before he raised his eyes to find a soft smile flickering on Tony’s lips and a knowing look in his eyes, chiding. Steve pushed his face away, gently mashing his cheek and huffing. He let his eyes sink closed again as Tony settled against his thigh, resting his head on the thick muscles there. Tony’s hair was just perfectly in reach, so he ran his fingers through the wet curls as he breathed and sank deeper against the tiles. He’d happily stay here forever.

Or at least, it felt that way for a few minutes; eventually Tony started to fidget and make ticklish circles on the back of his knee.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he whispered down.

“Hey.” Tony’s soft, warm voice tickled the soft skin of his inner thigh and then he looked up, eyes trailing up his abs and lingering on his pecs before smirking up at his face. “Not so bad, yourself.”

Steve met his smile with one of his own and brushed a strand of hair back from his face.

“You going to let me up anytime soon? Some of us don’t have serums that prevent back pain no matter what weird contorted positions we fall asleep in.”

Steve’s smile broke into a grin and he gripped Tony under the arms and started to slowly pull him up. Tony’s firm body slid over the mess between them, his squirming almost too much on his sensitized cock, until he was straddling Steve’s lap.

“That more to your liking?” needled Steve, smiling.

“I suppose it’ll do,” Tony conceded before kissing him on the tip of the nose, nuzzling lazily against his cheek.

They kissed, foreheads pressing, light and affectionate, enjoying the touch until it came to its natural conclusion and Tony broke away, eyes closed, mouth slightly open.

“Fuck, Steve, at this rate you’re going to have me hard again,” Tony grumbled, resting his weight against Steve’s broad chest, sweat and come clinging to their skin again.

Steve chuckled and dropped his arms to hug Tony close to him, breathing into his wet hair, the exhaustion of the week finally sinking into him. He felt Tony sag into his chest a moment later.

Steve enjoyed the weight of him, the security of knowing that Tony was here against his chest, safe and Steve’s.

“Did you mean it?” Steve whispered into Tony’s hair, hands suddenly clenched behind him.

Tony looked up, moving slowly, but firmly, to hold Steve’s eyes with his own serious ones.

“Of course I did, Steve,” he said, brushing Steve’s hair away from his face. “I wouldn’t say something like that if I didn’t mean it.”

Steve gulped, not sure what to do with all of this. Sure the fantasy had made him hot but did he really buy that after all the avoidance, this was what Bucky --who he was supposed to call James-- really wanted? The thought of Bucky saying no, walking away disgusted, hurt. But the other option, the one where Bucky said _yes_ , but not because of love, or fun, or sex, made bile rise in his throat, stomach clenching. The Winter Soldier was a huge scar, seventy years of no control and orders that went against everything Bucky had ever been.

“You don’t have to figure out the whole tactical plan now, winghead, okay?” Tony said softly into the scant space between them, his fingers brushing through his hair. “You don’t even have to decide if this is something you want to talk to James about. You hear me?”

Steve nodded, slowly. The knot in his stomach began to unravel at Tony’s calm tone and soothing touches. They had time to think about this, to let the idea settle in between them. Yeah.

“No matter what happens, it’s going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

The firm certainty in Tony’s voice had the last of Steve’s anxiety running out of him. He nodded again, more firmly and looked up to reward Tony with a tremulous smile for his efforts.

Tony gave him a long look and Steve felt their eyes lock. Tony had complained once, about how boring his eyes were next to Steve’s blue, but Steve couldn't disagree more. They had deep notes that were as dark as the fanciest chocolate while streaks of umber, cinnabar and ochre radiated from the pupil. Steve wanted to paint the depth of them, needed oils in his hands this minute, to capture the way they slid from languid, satisfied softness to hooded with mischief.

He felt a splash of water and he closed his eyes, startled back and suddenly recognised the expression on Tony’s face from a tactical rather than an artistic perspective. He ‘tsked’, shaking the water off his face and mock scowling, only to find Tony grinning and utterly unrepentant.

“Oh, is that where you wanna go right now? Really.”

Tony splashed some of the water puddled on the tiles on his hip. “Why, think you can’t take me, hot shot?”

Steve snorted disparagingly, tossing his head like an English aristocrat. “You ain’t got a leg to stand on, buddy,” he drawled, smacking Tony lightly on the hip.

In retaliation, Tony hit the shower hose just right and the spray jerked right into Steve’s face. Sputtering and laughing, Steve shoved Tony off his legs and scrambled to his feet to get to the shower head first.

He turned the pressure up and jetted Tony right in the reactor, but Tony was already retaliating with a solid squirt of bodywash, which hit Steve in the nipples.

“Tony, that’s _cold,_ ugh.” He dipped his chin and sniffed himself. “Is this _mint?_ It tingles.”

“Suck it up, babe, and maybe I’ll show you the glories of mint and cinnamon lubes some day.”

Steve snorted and rubbed the soap up to a lather, working it over his cock to clear the last traces of lube and come. He paused when he realised Tony’d gone straight to sucking him off after getting well and truly fucked bareback, but then, considering the rimming, dismissed it as a scorching hot thought to dwell on some other time. He soaped up between his balls while he was there, going slightly cross-eyed.

The slightly choked whine Tony made at the sight wasn’t helping Steve’s libido, but he snickered at his slack jawed expression anyway. “Like what you see?”

“You-- God, how do you _do_ that? I am not a teenager anymore, but fucking hell I would give it a go for you.”

Steve glanced down and, yep, Tony was having the same problem. “We have to get out of the shower, Tony, behave.” He picked up some of the bubbles and flicked them towards Tony’s face. “Wash up, get dressed, and maybe that’ll be back up to parade standard by the time we’re done eating.”

“With a promise like that, I’m gonna be distracted the _whole meal_. Knowing Natasha, she’ll notice the second I walk in and will force us to spend the entire evening with the rest of the team,” Tony grumbled, rubbing the soap bubbles into his beard and turning his face towards Steve for a rinse. Rather than using the shower head, Steve hooked it back on the wall and pulled Tony into the spray by his chin, rubbing his thumb in circles through his beard to get the scent of come out of the bristles. Hopefully.

“How’s the ass, honey?”

It was Tony’s turn to look a little cross-eyed, his focus going internal. “Well fucked and leaking down my thighs.” Steve gave a happy chuckle, a shot of warmth heating him from stomach to ears. Tony smacked him on the shoulder. “Yeah, I know you like it, don’t laugh.”

“Sure I do,” Steve replied, gathering up some soap and trailing his fingers down to Tony’s ass to wash away the trail of his come. “Some time, we gotta set aside a day so I can fuck you so full of come you can taste it.”

Tony made a punched-out groan, dropping his forehead to Steve’s collarbone and spreading his legs. Steve tried not to linger, but Tony was still loose and relaxed, so it was a sisyphean task.

“And Bucky, too? God, that would be...”

Steve’s turn to groan and he couldn’t help but let his fingers slide just inside, to feel the heat of Tony’s body and imagine it was Bucky’s come sliding out of him. “Yeah, okay, that...That’s hot. That is something I can get behind.”

“Hmph. ‘Get thee behind me, demon’ wasn’t supposed to refer to sodomy, but you fit the fucking bill. Gerrouta me.”

Steve snuffled against Tony’s neck and turned them so the water ran down his ridiculous bubble-butt. “Sure, sure, sorry.”

“Damn right you should be sorry, I need at least an hour,” Tony grumbled. His cock was a comfy half-chub against Steve’s thigh, but if Tony said he needed to back off despite, Steve was backing off. If Steve hadn’t just come his brains out, he’d be right there too, so he couldn’t judge.

“Soap free?” Steve asked, sluicing the last of the excessive amount of soap off his chest and turning for Tony to look.

“Yeah, you’re good. Get your ass outta here before you get any more bright ideas.”

Steve snorted and went, wiping the worst of the water off with his hands and grabbing a towel off the rail. He held the toasty warm towel out like a net and caught Tony with it, pulling him close and off balance. Tony stumbled against his chest, laughing, and Steve wrapped him up tight and squeezed him around the middle, lifting him off his feet to Tony’s squeaky dismay.

“Yeah, no, put me down, you’re making a scene in a public space--”

“Oh, like the shower stall was any better,” Steve snarked right back, turning 180 degrees and dumping Tony on the bench in the middle of the room. He pulled down a second towel and dried himself off quickly, as pleased as always by the fact that a good, hot towel would have you dry in a fraction of the time and with twice the comfort of a normal one.

Tony, on the other hand, was still struggling to get out of his, because he was sitting on the overlap. Steve didn’t want to help, because Tony was a competent grown man having a brief but intense battle with a towel, but he _was_ Captain America. So he dumped another towel over Tony’s head and gave his hair a really thorough scrub, making sure to rub it in all directions.

Tony’s bright eyes peeked out from under the fluff but rather than the glower Steve was expecting, Tony’s smile was honestly open and happy in a way that made Steve’s heart warm.

“Hey babe,” he murmured down at Tony, gentling his hands and smoothing Tony’s hair back from his face.

“Hey yourself.” Tony’s smile turned weird for a second then broke completely over a yawn. “...’m done but good... we got time for a nap?”

“Sure do. You want a lift?” Steve wouldn’t mind carrying Tony right now, he was warm and drowsy looking, be a nice armful.

Tony looked tempted, extracting himself from the towel absently, but shook his head. “No, no, you get dressed, I’ll get dressed, and we won’t give anyone a surprise boner-slash-ladyboner on our way upstairs.”

Steve blushed red hot again, remembering Jane, Darcy and Tony’s conversation again. He ducked under his towel to dry off his close-cropped hair and, incidentally, hide his face. “Hey, about Thor...” he hit a wall, no idea what he was going to say, how to talk about the warm feeling he got when Thor’d had his wrists.

“Yeah, Steve?” Tony said, yawning into his hand.

“I don’t know what... I get a weird feeling when he gets the upper hand.” Steve rubbed under his chin with the towel, deciding he needed a shave today after all. He did keep a razor and badger brush down here, so he dug it out and got set up by the mirror, hand brushing up foam from his scuttle in a familiar movement.

“Weird how?” Tony asked, just out of the mirror’s reflection, though his foot appeared briefly, wriggling into the leg of his sweats.

“Like... Nat gets me down, or you in the suit, I get fired up, pumped for trying to escape. Thor... It’s weird.” He stuck his tongue in his cheek and pulled the razor across it.

“Like, you get calm?”

Flicking lather off the blade, Steve nodded. “Heart rate slows, I get real comfortable. I almost forgot I was supposed to try and get out of it, earlier.”

“Yeah, noticed that. It’s why I brought up pass lists earlier. But you’re not attracted to him?”

Steve shrugged. Two orgasms down, and it’s a hell of a lot easier to talk about. Particularly with Tony yawning and sliding up against his back, leaning most of his weight there and trusting in Steve’s balance to take it without cutting himself on the sharp straight razor.

“So, you just want him to hold you down, huh?” Tony mumbled into his shoulder blade.

“I guess? It just...felt nice. Dunno what that says about me.” He’d have hated it before the war, _had_ hated it when Buck kept him in bed for whatever bullshit health thing he’d got into his head.

“Liking being held down doesn’t have to _say_ anything about you. No more than hating olives does.” Steve felt his facial hair prickle as Tony made a face.

Steve wasn’t quite buying that, though. “I think it does. I think...I’m too big.” He didn’t know what he meant, and he could feel Tony perking up to ask so he gave himself a little shake. “Forget it, doesn’t matter. I’m not attracted to him so, it’s a moot point.”

He finished his shave with Tony leaning against his back, yawning here and there and steadily falling asleep. Steve could feel the same urge, and got tidied up quickly so they could go drowse off, taking care to clean up his kit. His hands brushed gently over the metal and the warm handle of the brush. Maybe he could give Tony a bit of a shave some day. Just a little trim.

“Y’know, I don’t think... bondage, or D/s, or whatever you want to call the Thor thing... I don’t think it’s got to _be_ sexual,” Tony mused in the elevator, cuddled against Steve’s chest with his eyes closed.

Discomfited, but not enough to want out of the conversation, Steve buried his face in Tony’s hair, appreciating the picture they made in the mirror. “What’s Thor supposed to get out of that, though?”

Tony smacked him lightly. “You know he’d enjoy it because you’d enjoy it, don’t pretend otherwise.” He leaned up and kissed Steve’s temple comfortingly. “We should ask Darce, she’s read up on all the potential,” he waved his hand in a vague circle, “combinations.”

Well, that sounded excruciating. He had come out of that morning’s conversation alive, though. “Sure, okay. We can talk about it.”

“Great. Good decision making, there’s no rush on that for sure. How long do we have before the unholy horde?”

“About thirty minutes,” Steve replied without looking; he’d checked while he’d been shaving. “Just right for a nap, and a bit of a bask. C’mon.”

They wandered out of the elevator, still partly tangled together and leaning on each other, and headed for their bed, flopping out on top of the sheets and settling into Prime Nap Position. This was a well established phenomenon, and Tony curled onto Steve’s chest while Steve made room between his legs for his hips.

Tony yawned into his pecs and Steve settled in for a real quality afterglow.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any questions, comments or just want to follow two awesome people you can find us (and some ficlets) on tumblr at synteis.tumblr.com and rose-on-the-mountain.tumblr.com.


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